


Dark as Night

by roseaerie



Category: GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dream - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Assassins & Hitmen, DNF, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fantasy, Fluff, Government Experimentation, Hunger Games type vibe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, dreamnotfound, sort of angst i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28554783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseaerie/pseuds/roseaerie
Summary: The Assassins Ode (AO) is a competition that every aspiring assassin has to go through to get to work for the King. Parents had to make the hard decision if they wanted their kid to become an assassin, or not. Should they chose for their child to become an assassin, it rewards the family with money, food, and housing... as long as the child wins at AO....It is run by a cruel and power-hungry leader, Schlatt, and is the main attraction, happening once a year, of the large nation; Enfernia.This year, George is competing. As he navigates through the harsh, emotionless void, he'll need every ally he can get.That's when he meets a thief from the village, somehow getting closer and closer despite the personality difference. Then, when everything seems like it couldn't get worse, George is forced to learn the truth.TW // brief desc. of blood and violenceInspired off Hunger Games
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 37





	1. On the Cobblestones

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to Dark as Knight! I'm really excited for this book, and I took a lot of time planning it out. I hope you enjoy reading it!  
> I usually update the book once a day, just a btw!
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> I am literally only using the names of these people, so please don't think I'm talking about their irl personas! As always, if you do share my work, please don't copy and paste it, or download a pdf! Also make sure you aren't shoving it any of the cc's faces! If they want this book taken off, it will immediately be deleted!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the whirlwind that is Dark as Knight.

Sunlight.

It's the reason for all life.

It's the reason the birds chirped in the morning, and the people bustled about, flitting to and fro from their first chore to the next. Sunlight was where good things happened. 

Darkness.

The symbol of death.

It's the reason for people to go inside, go to sleep, avoid the darkness until their precious sunlight graced the world with it's bright and happy rays the next morning. Darkness was associated with the worst crimes, hidden by the black cloak that was the night. 

Both opposites, yet not able to exist without each other. The darkness depended on the light, and the light on the darkness. 

People don't often think about this, too focused on their precious days, but maybe the both the dark and the light had feelings too...

Maybe the dark felt alone, never having anyone to trust. 

Maybe the light longed for more.

Maybe.

~

George mumbles, shifting around on his makeshift bed as he is woken by the sound of roosters cawing their annoyance at the lack of food.

With one last sigh of indignation, George gets up, pulling on his cloak he had laid on an empty water trough, and walks out of the barn.

George had been sleeping in the barn for god knows how long. He had to take some... extra -yes that was the word- measures to avoid his father's late-night anger as the amber liquid from his bottle drained as the night progressed. 

His mother? 

His mother was nowhere to be found. She left when George was born. George had never known her, yet sometimes he still felt this sort of unexplainable anger toward her. The least she could have done was take George to another family.

Instead, she left him with his father. His father was, well, put quite simply he was the worst. He tended to have a little too much to drink... every single night... and he would take it out on whoever was nearest.

George was an only child, so most of the time that meant it was him. 

Don't get him wrong, in the daytime his father was actually sort of bearable. Well, as bearable as the most well-known assassin Enfernia had ever known could be.

It was true, George had to follow in the footsteps of the best assassin the country had ever known. 

That was a nightmare in itself. 

His father was known as the "Crown Assassin". This meant that he was the King's sole protector. So good the King only needed one. 

His father still did everything that a regular assassin would do, but he reported directly to the King, should he be requested. 

He had done this for about 30 years until one day it all went very wrong, forcing him to retire.

George shudders as he remembers the story his dad had told him in excruciating detail when he was a child. It was... well it was torture to listen to.

George decided to shove those memories to the back of his mind, opening the barn door, finally finished gathering the grain for the hens and roosters.

He exits the barn, heavy sack of grain not even bothering him thanks to his muscles from training, making his way to the henhouse and sprinkling the grain on the grass for the chickens to idly peck at, without so much as even a squawk in thanks.

He drops off what's left of the grain in storage, heading back in the direction of his house to wake his father.

He opens the iron gate, standing back for a second as the first rays of forgiving sunlight illuminate the once-grand house.

The King had issued this land to the family, part of the deal of being an assassin, and the house had been extremely nice. 

With time and neglect, the house had become nothing short of overgrown, time taking its toll as the vines won out over the crumbling white bricks.

You could still tell the niceness of the house though. George was forced to try his hardest every single day to keep it up. His dad would never forgive him if he didn't.

George walks up the stairs, grimacing as soreness from yesterday's assassin training finally makes its grueling appearance. 

The pain was temporary and forgotten in moments as George reminded himself why he was doing this.

Assassins Ode, more commonly known as A.O., was the most well-known and important event in Enfernia. Only the best of the best assassins attended, a new one each year, and in a week's time, it would be George's turn. You could start trying out for entering at 18, and George had just turned 18 a few months ago.

A.O. was the final and hardest test an assassin in training would have to go through. It attracted aspiring assassins to be from all over the world, not just Enfernia. They are shoved in an arena after two weeks of last-minute grueling training, given all the tools they need or want, and instructed to kill each other while the people of the world watched from their homes.

The final assassin-in-training still alive when the competition was over would become a real assassin.

The job was unforgiving, yes, but as a country where most of its people suffered and were in poverty, the job was a dream. Not to mention, the assassins were free to do whatever they wanted, so long as they could keep up with their daily duties.

Almost every young boy would train all their lives, hoping for that spot to get a chance in the arena, but almost all of them were denied. With Enfernia's ginormous population of about 500 million people, the Leader of the Assassins didn't have to worry too much about having a large enough army every year.

The Leader of the Assassins was a ruthless killing machine, in charge of AO. Nobody knew who he was, for his face always covered by a helmet and cloth. Though his face was hidden, some people had been known to faint if they caught the attention of Night Claw.

Yes, this idiot's name was Night Claw... all that cool, foreboding vibe he had going on was ruined by the name Night Claw

George shook his head, laughing to himself, and walked into the house to wake his father. 

He entered his father's room, praying for a good morning, and lightly shook his shoulder.

"Father, it's time to-" his father slapped him hard across the face, George stumbling over something his father had left out of place, falling to the floor.

"Boy, you've got to get better at keeping your balance," His father grumbled as he got out of bed, stepping over George who was holding his jaw, trying to keep his tide of tears suppressed.

His cheek burned, yet somehow his ego was hurt the most.

He got up quickly, going to make the usual eggs and oats for his father.

He made the dish with ease, hands easing into the familiarity of whisking the eggs and pouring milk into the pan to boil, eventually adding the oats in.

When the meal is finished, George sets the piping hot bowl and plate in front of his father, silently dismissing himself out the back door to start his morning walk to the market on the outskirts of the country.

This little walk he got to take each morning was his favorite, and he would often stretch the time as long as he could.

As he walks along the nice cobblestone streets, boots thudding familiarity, he admires the simplicity of the town. It was your average classical medieval town, lamposts standing tall, flying the black and orange colors of Enfernia, symbolizing fire. The buildings and shacks were packed tightly together, some having very narrow alleyways, but usually, the space was filled.

With the climbing population, Enfernia had houses and shacks packed anywhere they could fit.

The further away from the center of Enfernia you got, the more the houses became shacks, and buildings became barely sound with their creaking wooden boards. 

Estonia was built sort of around a smaller mountain, rivers and small streams running through the base. The castle, grand as ever, could be seen at all times, standing proud at the top of the mountain.

Of course, the King must be seen at all times. George didn't have a very fond opinion of the King, however, he sure didn't let him know that. 

He was forced to see the King every year, tagging along with his dad in order for the King to look him over. 

George was sort of the guinea pig for all the new and 'exciting' things the AO arena had to offer. 

George snorts, thinking of the 'opportunity' he had to be sick for an entire month when he was about five, the subject of a new poison going wrong. Sure... definitely an opportunity.

George reaches the market, saying hello to Clyde. Clyde had been super good to George, and they knew each other quite well since George had been coming to see the older male about every day for as long as he could remember.

On some of his father's bad days, George would just come and sit at the market, which had a very scenic view of the ocean.

Sometimes George wished he had as much freedom as the water. He watched it longingly, imagining what it would be like to be able to flow anywhere you wanted.

After he picked out the fruit and veg for the day, he pulled out his money, making small talk with Clyde as he bundled up his food, thanking him and leaving with a friendly wave.

George really had no shortage of money, which was a little weird of him. His dad was still being handsomely rewarded for being the Crown Assassin. It just felt wrong for George to use the money, so vowed never to use it on himself. 

As he was just about to turn the corner, leaving the market behind, he heard a shout from Clyde.

"HEY! Shoplifter! Someone grab him!"

George knew there most likely weren't going to be any guards around since this was a place mostly in poverty anyway, so he slipped into action.

His training kicked in as he sprinted in the direction Clyde was pointing, vaulting onto a wagon to look over the crowd with calculating eyes. 

There!

A person wearing all dark clothes was slipping in and out of the crowd, running toward the center of the country.

"EVERYBODY MOVE!" George yelled, jumping off the wagon and sprinting after the shoplifter. 

The townspeople, not used to shouting, hurriedly moved out of the way as George barreled through them.

He was in reach of the dark traitor, but at the last second, he stumbled over a loose cobblestone.

He swore, trying to regain the pace he had lost.

He sees the person hop onto the stone guard of a bridge, looking around frantically as the whistles of nearby guards blew, getting closer to apprehending the shoplifter.

George pushes through the thick crowd, almost to the mysterious person covered in various black clothes.

He is close enough to the person, seeing him taking a deep breath, as the traitor... was that a smile?

Though everything but his mouth was covered, George could somehow feel the gaze of the thief, slowing him down. Why did he stop?

He looked... no... it couldn't be...

The thief smiles smugly, pulling out an apple, taking a juicy bite, tossing it gently at George, who caught the apple in surprise.

As a last show of mockery, he gives George a quick two-fingered salute, jumps backward, falling backward off the bridge in a graceful dive.

Geroge, who had been frozen to his spot in shock the entire time, runs to the edge of the bridge, looking down.

He was gone.


	2. Crest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wait!" George calls, running after the boy.
> 
> He stops abruptly, turning just as George slams into him, losing his balance.
> 
> He would have fallen had it not been for the strong arms that wrapped around his waist, pulling him gently back up to standing. 
> 
> "Uh- umm- thanks," George mutters, pretending to be busy brushing dust of his clothes. "I- I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for the- the archery thing. And I just... I don't know your name."
> 
> The taller boy smiles.
> 
> "I'm nobody."

"NO!" One of the guards curse, reaching the wall where George was leaning over.

"Every single time. He gets away every. Time," the guard walks off, disappointment masked with anger, calling his troops back to their regular posts.

"E-excuse me, sir?" George calls to the guard, timid but not sure why.

The guard turns, peering quizically at George.

"U-uh I was just wondering... who is that?" George asks quietly.

The guard scowls at George. "That's for us to know, not little poor boys like you. None of you village idiots need to know that information. Get back to your chores, scum."

He spits, turning his back and marching away as George just blinks, stunned by the abrasiveness of the man.

No matter. He should count himself lucky that he didn't get beaten.

George shakes off his surprise, choosing instead to examining the apple the thief had thrown to him, closely.

It was just an ordinary apple, sold for nothing more than 5 coins. Why would he need to steal that?

George walks back in the direction of Clyde's market, hiding 5 coins and an extra 5 dollars in the money box when he wasn't looking. He knew Clyde wouldn't take the money otherwise.

George held the apple, tossing its weight from hand to hand as he walks back in the direction of home.

He shrugs, putting the apple in the pocket of his cloak, the most expensive thing he owned.

He got it as a gift from the King, who had bribed him with two versions of an expensive cloak for another series of poison tests. George knew he was going to have to do them either way, so he thought it was better to get something out of it, rather than nothing at all.

The one he was wearing now was fit for the cold and rainy weather that Enfernia experienced quite often. Rarely was a bright and sunny day, mostly taken over by the dreary, grey sky, reflecting its misery on the waters lapping gently on the sandy beaches of the continent.

It was emerald green, standing out in the sea of mainly black clothes, which George didn't mind. Thanks to his extensive and rigorous training, he could blend into the shadows wearing a rainbow cloak and still not be discovered.

There were pockets lining the inside, somehow never being weighed down no matter how many things you stuffed into them. The cape itself flowed like water, billowing behind George when he walked. It was warm, waterproof, and soft, hood protecting him when he needed it. George loved that cape.

He fingers it absentmindedly, turning the corner to the looming house. It was a blessing and a curse, returning here.

Many days, it was a curse.

George walks down the path to the training arena the King had built for him. As much as he hated taking things from the King, this was another benefit he couldn't deny.

He walks into the outdoor arena, delicately taking off his cloak, strange memories rushing back to him.

Once, George had invited his best friend over for some extra training practice. He was also training to be an assassin but wasn't taking it as seriously. George had always advised against this, for if you were to be selected for AO you needed to be prepared.

His friend was practicing target practice, and without warning, the dagger slipped out of his hand. The blade soared right toward George, but at the last second George held his arm up, cloak getting tangled in his sleeve. 

The knife hit the cloak, thudding softly to the ground without so much as a scratch on George or the cloak.

Both boys looked up in surprise, George examining it closer.

How could this be?

He dismissed it as a freak accident and thankfully his friend didn't hit him again.

George hears the rusted gate squeal open, grabbing a dagger and whirling around, ready to throw if it was an enemy.

"Woah, woah! At ease!" Sapnap says, throwing his hands in front of his face like that would help.

"Sorry. You can't do that!" George says, throwing his dagger back to its spot on the table. "You know you were almost used as a human target?"

Sapnap laughs, walking over to grab a handful of daggers, dropping some on the ground near George's boots.

"Man! You better be careful with those! Need I remind you what happened last time?" George asks, delicately sweeping up his own handful.

"No, I got it covered! I am the best assassin Enfernia has and will ever see!" Sapnap throws a dagger, completely missing the target about thirty feet away.

George shakes his head, throwing his in rapid succession, thunking into the target with deadly precision.

Sapnap whines, complaining that George was a showoff and asking again how to throw.

George sighs, coming over to coach Sapnap until he finally hits the target, a few inches off the center. 

"Good," George says dismissively, Sapnap cheering for himself. "You need to keep working Sapnap. We have less than a week until Trials. If you get picked for AO, you need to be ready."

They train until the sun goes down, doing exercise, hand to hand combat, obstacle training, and finally, archery. Sapnap decides to leave before archery to get his 'beauty sleep'. George wasn't worried. Archery was the one thing that came naturally to Sapnap, who could shoot a bow in his sleep.

George stands alone, inhaling deeply as he opens his eyes and draws the bow back, aiming for the target about 110 yards away; a personal record-breaking shot if he could hit it.

He releases, the arrow thudding into the trunk of a tree 10 feet away from the target.

George curses under his breath, throwing the bow down on the table in anger.

"Your feet aren't hip-width," George hears the slightly accented unfamiliar voice from behind him.

George whips out the dagger sheathed in his belt, whirling around to stop the point millimeters away from the neck of...

"You?"

It was the thief from the village.

"You're a little feisty, aren't you now?" The thief, face now fully uncovered, flicks his eyebrows up, giving George that same cocky smile.

Without the dark fabric covering his face, he was... well, he was certainly attractive.

He had dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a scar on his left cheek, running from his forehead to his eyebrow. The scar almost made him hotter...

He rests his hand on George's, guiding the dagger away from his neck and back down to George's side, George shivering at the sparks that rushed through his body as Dream's rough hand touched his softer ones.

"Well, don't look so surprised... George," he smirks, towering over George. He was tall...

"How do- how do you know my name?" George asks, flustered but still ready to stab the dagger in his heart if he got too close.

"Oh you know... I have my connections..." he states, taking out the crest very few people had access to, twirling it on his finger.

A Royal.

"You're... you're..." George stammers. "You're a Royal Knight?"

"Uh.. yeah... sure yeah I am," he stutters, shaking his head. "My fa-... King speaks of you a lot, young assassin-in-training. Your dad was quite the charmer, wasn't he?" he brushes back a lock of his hair, barely reaching his eyes.

George can't even answer, fidgeting with the dagger in his hand as he imagines playing with his soft hair. Did he like that?

The Knight notices George staring at him. "Yeah, so I'm a Royal Knight. Big deal. I'm good for nothing except standing with a stupid staff and looking pretty for the King and his... son. I do the same old thing every same old day. It gets so-" The Knight turns his back to George, scuffing his boot on the ground as he cuts himself off.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything..." The Knight mutters, dropping his arrogant demeanor for the first time.

"No- no it's ok. I- well I sort of get it," George says bitterly, casting his gaze downwards to look at his boots.

"You're an assassin, yet you... you're different," The Knight says, with no hint of malice or resentment in his voice as George heard with his father.

"Yeah, I know. That's my issue. Little old George, not able to kill a simple training deer because he just can't stomach the fact of taking away a life just for the sake of training," George rants angrily, casting his dagger to the table where he had thrown his bow moments ago.

The Knight says nothing, gaze holding an unreadable emotion.

He sighs, walking to the table to grab the bow, handing it to George who took it timidly.

"You're doing everything right. You just need to keep your feet hip-width apart," The Knight grabs George's hips, guiding them to be just slightly more turned out. "Right.... there! Try again. Breathe in, and exhale when you fire the arrow."

George blushes from the close contact, drawing the bow back as the Knight steps out of the way.

"Please don't mess up, please don't mess up," George repeats in his head, willing the arrow to hit the target. But not because he was trying to impress the stranger... no that wasn't it at all.

George inhales, lining up the shot, then exhales, releasing the bowstring, sending the arrow straight into the center of the target. Bullseye.

"Yeah! Did you see that! Oh my god, I did it!" George screams excitedly, quickly halting his actions when he sees the smirk on the Knight's face. George's face turned deep red, blushing at his outburst.

"That was... that was ok," the Knight trails, pretending to not be interested, instead examining the table of weaponry George had.

"Oh yeah right, I just hit a personal best! That's literally insane you've gotta be sort of proud of me!" George exclaims.

"Proud? We just met George, don't get all friendly on me," the Knight looks up, smirking at George.

This Knight really had a thing for smirking...

"Well, I must be going. The King needs me for more important matters. Goodbye George," the attractive boy turns on his heel, elegant cape sweeping behind him as he trots back in the direction of the castle.

"Wait!" George calls, running after the boy.

He stops abruptly, turning just as George slams into him, losing his balance.

He would have fallen had it not been for the strong arms that wrapped around his waist, pulling him gently back up to standing. 

"Uh- umm- thanks," George mutters, pretending to be busy brushing dust off his clothes. "I- I just wanted to say thank you. You know, for the- the archery thing. And I just... I don't know your name."

The Knight smiles.

"I'm nobody."

With that trademark smirk that could make anyone fall for him, the Knight turns, disappearing back into the shadows from which he had come, taking a small piece of George's heart with him.


	3. The Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George spends the day getting through the first test of AO; The Trials.

George hears crashing from inside the house, followed by loud, slurred swears.

His father was at it again, drinking his problems away. The most ironic part of this phrase used for drunks was that the more his father drank, the more problems he had.

George knew he was going to have to sleep outside again. Muscles already sore from the hard days' work, George limps to the barn. Upon arrival, he slides the heavy wooden door open, going to the cupboard with his secret stache of things he needed for the night. 

He pulled out a doughy roll he baked earlier, soft and pillowy, taking a deep inhale of its slightly sweet and grainy scent. He sets it on his plate, pulling out the bean tin. George often had beans for dinner, as they were the easiest to store, as well as not needing preperation.

He opened the tin, pouring the beans into a bowl.

As he sat there, alone, eating the meal that was beginning to become all he knew, he looked to the night sky through a hole in the roof of the barn.

There, just past a cracked wooden slat, was Capella.

Capella was one of the brightest stars that could be seen in the night sky from Enfernia.

George felt that familiar pang of longing as he gazed upon the bright sky, wishing he had known his mother. Her name was Capella, named after the star. Sometimes, though not often, he would get these little tiny snippets of things he remembered about her.

If George was honest with himself, he didn't miss his mom. Not really. He just...

He missed being cared for by someone. He longed to be hugged. He longed to be touched, not beaten. Loved, not hated. 

But maybe that was too selfish of him.

"It's not like me to wish on stars..." George speaks softly to himself, gaze directed up at Capella. "Maybe just... maybe for once I wish I was happy. I just want someone to care for me. Maybe I'm asking for too much..."

George goes back to his dinner, finishing it and grabbing his book, leather-bound cover calming him slightly as he feels the familiar smooth material underneath his hands.

He cracks open the book, flipping to a page he had bookmarked. It was a poetry book, consisting of just about any and all the poems a person could want. George found himself going back to the book over and over, using the light of the moon to help ease the words to wash over him, drowning out the cursing coming from the house.

His favorite poem was surprisingly a love story. It was about two people, destined to meet and fall in love, but they were too afraid to just go for it. They never took that final step. One day, on a whim, one of them finally just gets up the courage to ask. The other accepts, and through the bumpy road that is life, they just enjoy it and each other.

George wanted that.

He had always wanted that.

George sighed, slipping the cover of the heavy book closed, storing it in one of the barrels, as he laid down on his bed of hay. It was pointless to hope for that kind of love.

As he is just beginning to fall asleep, maybe it was just a dream, but he feels someone smooth back his hair, soothing touch calming George right to sleep.

~

The rest of the week goes by in a flurry of training and testing.

The morning before the test, George has to try the next round of a new poison, developed just before the Trials of AO. The poison, thank god, only had effects similar to pepper spray. 

After hours filled with agony and resentment, George could finally see again.

He was then put in a carriage, going in the direction of where he assumed was the AO arena. They arrived, dark and looming arena seeming to spell out his ultimate demise in the distance.

It was extremely tall, slick walls preventing anyone from escaping, however, if you did make it to the top you'd be obliterated by the motion sensor guns, packed along the entire arena to make sure the staff of AO could eliminate anyone they needed at all times.

George steeled himself as the stone gates creaked open, letting the carriage marked with the King's seal enter the arena of death.

It was time.

~

George stands in a crowd of about two hundred assassins, varying in age and body type.

George looks around the tightly packed crowd, checking out his competition.

George looked to be one of the youngest ones there, which was not necessarily good or bad. He would have to try to use his short body and young age to his advantage. George was fast and agile and would be even more so than some of the older assassins trying out.

"Listen up! You are all here for a reason. Whatever that reason may be, you must hold on to it. Only the ones who truly want to be here will prevail. Your order of the tests depends on your groups, which we will let you know momentarily! We've got a fabulous addition to the tests this year, provided by our very own leader!" One of the people in charge of the Trials yells across the crowd. "Poison resilience."

George hears some of the assassins gasp, whispers breaking out among the crowd. George smiled. George had tested so many poisons that if he had a dollar for each one he would be a very rich man.

"You will all be put into groups so we can look at you more closely. There will be about 8 groups, 25 per group. You will be assigned a Tester to watch after you. If you injure, kill, or so much as look at each other wrong, you will be severely punished," one of the Testers calls.

"I don't think you want to know what the punishment will be..." the Tester trails off ominously. "Let's get you lot into groups."

They split up the group, George getting put in 5. He didn't mind the other people with him. It was mostly guys, but there were a girl or two in each group. George had two in his. Both were pretty, but not his type.

While the other guys were busy flirting with the ladies, picking out their favorites, George started on his way to the archery arena, hoping to be alone with the Tester stationed there.

He went to the line marking where to stand, bows and arrows at the ready to his left. The Tester nods for him to begin, George docking the arrow in the bow he picked. 

"It's now or never George..." George whispers under his breath. 

He inhales, pulling back the bowstring to his cheek, making sure he had his feet planted and his hips just slightly turned out. He exhales, releasing the arrow.

It flies an impressive distance, right into the center of the target! George smiles, looking to the Tester as he writes something down, nodding to George to signal that he could leave.

George gives a quick bow, thanking him, and hurries off.

He gets through obstacles, poison resilience, and sword fighting with ease, finally coming to dagger throwing; his last event.

George takes aim, thunking three daggers right into the center of the target. George smiles in elation, finally passing the last test! He had done it! His first test of AO was over! Now he just had to wait for the results.

"Aye, youngin'," an unfamiliar voice calls to George, gruffly. "C'mere."

George looks in the direction of the voices, seeing three older men staring at him, shoving each other like young boys.

George rolls his eyes microscopically, going to move on without saying anything. He goes to turn, walking away when he feels a hand on his arm. 

"Where you goin' pretty boy?" George can smell alcohol on the breath of the man who was way too close to him. The guy appeared to be the so-called 'leader' of this pack of assassins.

"Umm excuse me I have to be going now..." George trails off, timidly.

"Oh look!" the leader exclaimed while the others laughed. "We've got a softie here! You're so cute. Why don't you just come with me behind that outhouse..."

"Umm no. Goodbye," George says more forcefully this time, removing the guy's hand from his shoulder.

"HEY!" George hears someone yell, seeing a flash of white as someone stands in front of George, punching the disgusting old man in the face who yells in agony, staggering back.

"God dang back up off my friend! Geez George you need to tone down your attractive looks!" Sapnap exclaims, turning back to the gang. "Do not EVER come near George again, you hear me? If you report me for taking a swing, I'll let them know that you put your hands on my friend. Get lost."

The other members help up their leader, mumbling curse words under their breath as they shuffle away.

"Thanks..." George trails off, embarrassed. "How's training going? I finished mine just now, and to be honest with you I think I did pretty well!"

"Hey me too! It's crazy what actually sleeping will help you accomplish!" Sapnap laughs. "I finished early as well. I only struggled with poisoning testing. That was brutal. I can't believe they are allowed to do that!" 

George nods, for some reason apprehensive about telling Sapnap about the King's favor to using George like a testing animal.

They sit on a nearby bench, watching the rest of the assassins trying and mostly failing to impress the Testers. 

There is one though, that had caught George's eye from the beginning. 

He was dressed in black fitted clothing, clinging to all of his muscles in just the right places. The clothes HAD to be expensive and created quite the statement. Practically everyone else just had clothes made of scraps stitched together sloppily, so the sight of the new clothes definitely meant he had some money. 

His face was covered, traditional assassin's hood cloaking his face in shadow.

He moved with stunning agility, besting every competitor he faced. George was impressed.

"You see him? The hot guy with the expensive clothes? Rumor has it, he's a royal!" George hears the girls that are camped behind him gossip.

"Can you believe it, Alyssa? A Royal! We are going to have to kill a Royal..."

George sucks in a breath, realizing the incredible assassin was his competition...

This was going to be a lot harder than he anticipated...


	4. Pine and Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assassin just holds out his arms, moving them a bit when George looks back at him in confusion.
> 
> "You'll have to speak to me if you want me to understand..." George trails off mischievously, knowing exactly what he is doing. 
> 
> The assassin cocks one eyebrow as if to say 'fine then', and slides one arm under George's legs, and the other around his back, picking him back up. George knew there was a cocky smile hidden underneath his mask.

"George come on! The Testers are about to announce the Selected!" Sapnap taps on George's shoulder, getting up from the bench and running in the direction of all the commotion with George right behind him.

They get there, everyone shoving to the front to hear if their names are called. After seeing the mystery assassin that had to be a shoo-in, plus some of the other talented assassins, George knew had some tough competition. He strains his ears over the shouted questions, trying to hear the Tester.

"... Henry Dali, Callahan, Lazarbeam, Vikkstar, and Sapnap," Tester reads off the last name as Sapnap's face conveys surprise, fearfulness, and excitement. 

"Hey, congrats man!" George says, slapping his friend on the back. He was excited for his friend, but it felt like he had been punched in the gut. How had he failed? He had worked so hard...

"Oh shut up. There is no way you didn't get it. Maybe we just missed hearing your name being called?" Sapnap tries to be positive, but George can hear the sliver of doubt in his voice.

"Nah. That's ok though. You'll be great!" George tries and fails to sound excited for his friend, turning to leave with the other members who didn't get selected. He walks out, trying not to be too dejected. In a year's time, he would be able to try out again. It was just time for him to go home and try even harder.

"You," someone calls.

"Not again," George mumbles under his breath, turning to the voice with a fake smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"George, right?" The unfamiliar person asks. He is older and has a nicely pressed suit. When George nods his affirmation, the man continues. 

"Why don't you come over here and have a chat with me. I think you'll find I have something quite good to offer you," the man says, leading George to a bench away from all the crowd. "George, I'm going to cut right to the chase. We, the Testers, think you've got something special about you. Put quite simply, we'd like to offer you a spot in AO should you so chose, but there will be stipulations. We'd like you to be the poster child for this event. The King tells me you already have done some things for him?"

"Yes sir I have. Poison testing, actually."

"Oh dear, well ok then. So, the spot. You'd just have to help us promote, and we may throw you a script every once in a while. The more you can get our viewership up, the better for you and us. And I shouldn't need to mention that we will pay you for this, so long as you make it out of the arena alive," the man states. "So, what do you think?"

George sits, staring at his hands, thinking deeply for a moment before he finally speaks.

"I'll do it."

~

The next week is spent with the last-minute training and preparation the assassins will need. The training is not to help them, but to make sure that each won't die too quickly. The Testers need to get all the money out of this event they can.

George had found Sapnap on the first day of training, telling him about how he got back in to AO. They both then trained together, not wanting to think about the inevitable...

Only one of them would be making it out.

George goes through training like a machine. His body soon goes on autopilot and he doesn't even think about the days anymore.

Wake up at 5 a.m., shower, dress, train, lunch, train some more, dinner, sleep, and repeat. Every day for the past week.

Training hadn't been too hard for him. It was just about everything he was already used to. All training was outdoors, so they had to deal with the weather, which was usually rain. George didn't mind it though, as he had been doing the exact same thing at home. The cool drops soothed his hot skin where they landed, giving him the extra strength to push through. 

George is in his last hour block of training when a lady comes over the intercom, robotic voice broadcasted throughout the training arena.

"Listen up. This time tomorrow, you will begin the fight of your lives, whether or not you are ready. We will monitor each of your progress, as well as your location at all times in the arena. Every so often, you'll have to face a challenge separate from fighting off everyone else. We will broadcast this entire event, so make sure you play us up nicely. Your sponsors as well as the revenue we bring from you will have an effect on the compensation for the winner. That is all," The voice statics out, and the scuffle of boots and the grunts of exertion begin to fill out the silence.

George hears giggling behind him as he continues doing pull-ups. After he finishes, he drops down from the bar and looks behind him, seeing a pack of ladies swarmed around to watch him work out.

He shakes his head, pushing through the crowd, and starting on a run. He had figured out that if he ran with the wall, all the way around the arena, it was about 10 miles. It was crucial for him to keep his stamina up. 

On his fifth mile, he came to a section where there was no one else training, entering a forest-like environment. The chirp of the birds and the buzz of cicadas was surprisingly calming to George. He takes a little more time to just enjoy the protection from the rain falling outside of the thick canopy of trees. In this little secluded area, where the trees reached far above his head, he felt at peace for the first time in a while.

George looks up as leaves rustle above his head, but he sees nothing. He forgets about it, evening back out his pace, but then he sees a flash of black dart in between cover from the leaves above.

George stops, squinting his eyes and being very quiet so he could listen again.

There! Someone was practicing leaping from tree to tree, catching themselves on the branches. They leap to the last one, impressively grabbing the thick branch and swinging themself up to sit on it, back turned to George. It was the mystery assassin that George had his eye on for the whole day.

He pulls back his hood, running a hand through his short blonde hair. He pulls one of his knees into his chest, looking at the sky through a break in the leaves. He looks like an elegant raven, perched there, cape rippling in the wind.

George approaches quietly, wondering what the other is doing so far away from training. He gets to the bottom of the thick trunk of the dark wood tree where the assassin was sitting. He cranes his neck to look all the way up, wondering how the heck he would manage to get all the way up to the top when the tree was so tall. Maybe George could too...

He steps one foot in a rut in the bark, hoisting himself up the first foot. Ok, that wasn't so hard. He continues feeling for grooves in the bark, getting a good 30 feet in the air, then he makes the mistake of looking down.

Climbing the tree made George lose perspective of how high he was getting. George did not like heights. When he looked down and saw how much distance was between him and the ground, he froze. He tried climbing back down, but he couldn't find any more grooves.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down his racing heart and panicky mind. He steps down, placing his foot back in a notch, lowering himself down. Just when he is about to put his full weight on his foot, it slips. George loses his grip on the bark, feeling his hand split open painfully as it drags down the bark and he falls from the tree, hitting his head on the ground.

Then, there was nothing but black.

~

George slips back into consciousness, afraid to open his eyes. 

His hand and his head were killing him, but other than that he was ok.

As George starts to become fully aware of what is happening, eyes still squeezed shut, he realizes that he can feel semi-rough fabric against his cheek.

The smell of pine and apple invades his senses as he takes a deep breath against the fabric. Was someone holding him?

Yes. George could feel movement underneath him, strong arms cradling him to someone's chest. In a way, it was sort of... comforting.

"Oh god," George thought miserably. "I'm such an idiot! Why did I try to do that when AO is in less than 12 hours?! And who the heck is carrying me right now? Wait..."

He slowly opens his eyes, trying to avoid letting his... savior?.. know that he was conscious. The first thing he sees is the hood, pulled up around his face. The man has a mask on, blocking the lower half of his face from George's view. Even with the majority of his face covered, George knew the ladies were right. He was good looking. His eyes were enchanting, seeming to switch between blue and green depending on the way the light hit them. The last thing that confirms Geroge's horrible suspicion is the tailored black assassin's outfit that only one person had on. 

The stupidly hot, oddly pleasant smelling, mystery assassin, royal guy was carrying him. 

George swore under his breath, willing himself to pass out again. How could he have been so stupid? He kicks himself internally, wishing he could beat himself.

"How ironic is it that my first impression on this stupid royal is falling off a TREE and knocking myself out?" George thinks to himself, trying to hold in his delirious chuckle. His shoulders still lurch, giggling internally, and the masked boy looks down at him.

George's eyes widen, not sure what to say as he gets the full attention of those beautiful eyes. They looked... familiar from somewhere, but George couldn't put a finger on it. 

"Ummmm... hello. May I ask where we are going?" George asks timidly.

George gets that same nagging feeling that he knows this guy from somewhere, but it must just be his imagination. He gets no reply back from the other boy. Not even a blink.

The rest of the walk was filled with awkward silence in which George tries to keep himself from doing what he wanted; resting his cheek against the cute boy's chest, inhaling his calming scent. But that was weird...

"It's sorta weird that you keep your face covered. All I can see are your eyes," George says in an effort to cease the standstill conversation. "What do you look like under the mask?"

The assassin keeps his eyes forward, still not even acknowledging that George said anything. Talk about rude...

"Ok then..." George trails off. "You don't talk much, huh? Well, I can start I guess. I mean I know we are going to be competitors and whatnot, but that isn't until tomorrow. Umm... I'm George. I'm 18 and this is my first time to try out and my first time to get in. I'm a little nervous, and obviously, I'm just... well I'm different from other assassins. I'm not saying I'm good, I just... well I am not ruthless and dark and broody like you. Like all the good assassins," George talks quickly, sort of dumping all the things he was thinking about on the poor random assassin.

He still doesn't acknowledge that he heard George, but George can see a hint of bemusement in his eyes. 

They reach the doctors, the assassin taking George in to be examined, gently placing him down on a table. The doctor comes in, checking out George. All he does is put some cream and a bandage on George's hand since the gash is pretty bad.

"You're quite lucky you only sprained your ankle and injured your hand. You escaped without very much injuries," the doctor comments. "If you rest it today and tonight, you should be good to go into AO tomorrow. Good luck."

The doctor walks out, and the royal gets up from his chair in the corner from which he had been brooding, walking over to George.

George looks up. 

"What?" he asks in confusion.

The assassin just holds out his arms, moving them a bit when George looks back at him in confusion.

"You'll have to speak to me if you want me to understand..." George trails off mischievously, knowing exactly what he is doing. 

The assassin cocks one eyebrow as if to say 'fine then', and slides one arm under George's legs, and the other around his back, picking him back up. George knew there was a cocky smile hidden underneath his mask.

"Hey!" George pouts, sticking out his lower lip. "You cheated. I hate you."

The assassin looks down at George, eyebrows raised as he blinks slowly. His expression says, 'I know you don't hate me.'

"You know, come to think about it, I don't even know your name. What do I call you?" George asks.

Something changes behind the assassin's eyes as if he considers telling George his name, but that look is quickly extinguished. He says nothing, eyes trained on the path ahead as they pass through a doorway, back inside an indoor hallway.

His boots click down the stone floor of the hall, echoing in the distance. For the first time, George goes silent. Their next stop is a recording studio looking place. George gets set down in a chair in front of a makeshift mirror, makeup artist coming behind him to dab on whatever makeup products he thinks George needs.

A woman with a clipboard walks in, snapping her fingers for attention.

"Ok... we've got George here, right? Yes yes, there you are darling! Our poster child! Where is the other one? There! Come, come we must take photos!"

George gets up from his chair, hobbling slowly toward the backdrop when he feels his arm being picked up and placed over the shoulders of the assassin, helping him walk to the chair that was apparently set up for George. George mumbles a quick thanks as he adjusts himself in the chair.

"Ok ladies I need capes, please! George the King had your cloak delivered. You accidentally left it at the castle earlier today," the woman hands the cloak over to George, who takes it happily, fastening it securely around his neck. "It's a beautiful green color! It should go nicely with the black cape!" 

The other assassin gets his black cloak, seeming to blend in with his wardrobe made completely of black.

They post for pictures, some separate and some together, finally getting to leave after roughly 30 minutes. 

The assassin takes no time, swooping George back up in his arms and taking him from the room, ignoring George's mews of protest. He brings them to a very fancy room in the same hall, a bathroom and a bedroom with two twin-sized beds. When the assassin takes off his cape to hang, George realizes he will be staying with him.

Great...

Now George had to sleep in the same room as the hot, brooding dude.


	5. And So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George prepares to start his first day in AO.

The assassin walks over to George, gesturing for him to take off his cloak. George apprehensively reaches up for the tie, taking it off and handing it gently to the assassin who takes it to be hung.

George looks around the room, trying to figure out something to do so he isn't just sitting there awkwardly. He looks down at his hands, clasping them and unclasping them, tediously needing to mess with something. 

George hears the shower being turned on, and gasps. A shower! They didn't have showers in the village. George gets up from the bed, hobbling with his hurt ankle, and knocks on the door which he assumes led to the bathroom.

The door opens, George's eyes going straight to the wet, bare chest of the assassin. His mouth falls open, eyes dragging over his six-pack and the water droplets trickling down his stomach, back up to the boy's face. He must have put his mask back on, but he chose to leave his hood off. George could see now that he had medium lengthed dark brown hair, gone straight due to the water.

He cocks his eyebrows, asking silently why George had knocked.

"Uhh- umm- well- you- yeah," George stutters, gesturing back at the bedroom and turning to leave. As he turns on his heel, eyes widening as he silently freaks out, he barely hears a deep chuckle from behind him. George smiles, hearing the door click shut behind him. Finally, he had heard SOMETHING out of this boy's mouth.

They both take showers, George marveling at the fanciness. After they shower, they lie in their separate beds, turning off the lights and falling asleep. George was a little on edge, not able to sleep knowing that someone who was about to be his competition was lying 10 feet away from him. He could kill George in a second.

George tosses and turns, finally giving up with a huff. If he couldn't sleep, he may as well make the best of it. He throws back the covers, slipping his boots on and being careful of his injured ankle. Maybe he could train uninterrupted since it was late. His ankle was pretty much healed, so he wasn't too worried about that.

Out in the training arena, George decides to re-train on obstacles. He had done such a bang-up job climbing the tree, he thought he should probably try to better his balance. He climbs the ladder to the ropes course, high above the people that would have been training had it not been night. There was a net below the course, but it was still a pretty big fall. There was no safety at the top, so you just had to rely completely on yourself. 

George gets through the easy levels, coming to one that was supposed to be like swinging from vines. George looked at his bandaged hand, wondering how he was supposed to do it. Maybe he could try with one hand? No, he wouldn't be able to swing...

George sighs in defeat. He needed to make sure he didn't hurt himself more. The only way to get back down from where he was, was to jump. George had already had to psych himself up to deal with the heights once, and now he had to jump?

This was going to suck.

George takes a deep breath, planting his feet and deciding to just go for it. He jumped, falling for a couple of seconds -the longest seconds of his life- before landing on the net with an oomph. He rolls off, trying to land gently on one foot, wobbling a bit as he stabilizes himself. 

Maybe he could do some sword training on one of the dummies. He walks over to the swords, picking out a sharp-looking one, and launches on a couple of parries and attacks. He does a turning move, using the sword to block over his head, and swipes the middle of the dummy, hay spilling out. He pants, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Not bad.

He finishes off the night with a couple of rounds of dagger throwing and archery, then heads back to the room, slipping back under his covers. The next morning, he would wake up ready.

~

When George opens his eyes early the next morning, he feels a pang of disappointment at the fact the assassin appeared to have left the room. His cloak wasn't on the hook and his boots were gone. George dresses, quickly pulling on his emerald green cloak and sweeping out the door. In the hall, he is nabbed by one of the producers for AO, getting some makeup dabbed on him and a new outfit shoved into his arms.

It's an all-black assassin's uniform. The pants and shirt are made to fit tightly around the wearer, making them more aerodynamic. It had pockets designed to conceal daggers, food, and water. George was told he would be given a backpack just before the competition started, and it would have his symbol on the top right-hand corner. 

George smiled, remembering his selection. He had picked goggles. He didn't really know why, but they looked sort of cool to him. 

George caught a glimpse of himself in a broken mirror, taken aback at how well the producers did. He looked just like a real assassin. The contras of the suit and the cloak were pretty cool. In this moment, George finally let himself feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could do this after all. At least if he died, he would look like an assassin...

~

George stands in a small metal room, in front of the metal gate looking out to the massive arena, waiting in his sector. The competition would soon start, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in anticipation, feeling the eyes of the nation bearing down on the massive arena. He checks in his backpack to make sure he has all the things he needs. 

Water? Check. Food? Check. Throwing daggers? Check. Hunting knife? Check. George sighs, zipping up his backpack and transferring it back on to his back. His belt houses a sword and two more meticulous daggers, gleaming with razor sharpness. He has a bow and arrows slung across his back, awkwardly fitting them together with the backpack. 

There were no medicines they could have, only ones sent in by their sponsors. George had interviews with each of them, but nothing too interesting happened. He had one lady who seemed interested, but that was about it. No matter. He could pick up bonus points in the arena. If people thought he was going to win, they could still pick him, but the price raised with every kill the assassin got.

George slides down the wall, thinking over his last tactics when the door to the room wooshes open. George quickly stands, taking out his dagger and holding it at his side. Two assassins, dressed from head to toe in black, enter, holding the door for someone in a black, fancy suit.

"Hello, George. You don't know me, but I'm Schlatt. I run AO. I'm sure you've already been briefed on your duties as our poster child, but we haven't done the last part yet! Every one of our assassins-in-training has to get trackers injected into them. We can't have any of you running off, now can we? No," Schlatt says in a cheery voice, but George can hear the power that this man holds.

One of the assassins pulls out a needle, George's eyes widening at the size of it. The assassin tilts his head back, and George winces as the needle slides in, depositing the tracker inside his neck, and pulls back out. 

"Oh yes, I forgot! Every participant gets a special earbud that will give you announcements. There will be a nightly report, telling about the deaths, and if you have a sponsor then they can send you a message. You can take the earbud out at any time, but I highly recommend you keep it in," Schlatt advises, pulling out the tiny earbud. "I truly do hope you make it out. You've got some tough competition, aye?" 

"Yup," George nods, trying to play off his nerves. "Let's just hope I don't die in the first five minutes."

Schlatt laughs, oddly devoid of emotion, waving goodbye and exiting the room. George shivers. Something about the guy just seemed off to him. George sticks the mini-earbud in his ear, suddenly hearing a female automated voice counting down. She was at two minutes and four seconds. 

George knows she is counting down to the fight of his life. He knows his best friend is doing the same thing, preparing to kill anyone that comes across his path. 

That scares him the most...

As the lady gets to one minute, then thirty seconds, George takes a deep breath.

"Thirty seconds remain. Remember, kill anyone and everyone you can. There is no place for mercy. Try to escape, you die. Interfere with our broadcasting, you die. Step even one foot out of line, you die. Everything else is up to you. We hope to see you on the other side," The automation statics out, gate creaking open.

George takes a deep breath, taking his bow off his back and sliding an arrow out of its sheath. It was now or never.


	6. I Need You Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George tries to survive his first day of AO.

TW // blood

The gate groans open and George is off, running on his -thankfully healed- ankle. He whips his head back and forth, scanning for people that could make these moments his last. He knows he will stand the best chance in the forest, due to his emerald green cloak, so he continues deeper into the familiar environment. George had spent a lot of time exploring the woods when he was younger.

George knows he is better at long-range shooting, and taking out targets from a distance. He needs to make a plan. Maybe there was some sort of high ground up here? George looks up, only met with the thick branches of the trees. 

Oh no... he was going to have to go up the stupid trees, wasn't he...?

Well, maybe he could find something else for the start of the game.

"One death- Harrison Bird," George's audio feed tells him monotonously. A shiver goes up his spine. How was he dead already? 

One down, thirty-four to go...

George runs for a little longer, finding a stream with fresh, running water. It would be good if he could set up somewhere around here. He looks for caves or any rocks he could hide behind. Then, he sees a slightly unearthed tree. Its roots were gnarled up over the earth just a bit, hiding what was below them, and when George shoves aside a particularly heavy boulder, there seems to be an... opening?

He shimmies his way inside, dropping his pack in the corner. There was probably enough space for a good four people to lay in here. Thank goodness. George knew he would be safe here for a little bit. 

"Ok, so I've gotta make a plan. How can I keep myself alive here? Maybe I can climb some trees... there has to be some sort of thickly woven section where I can sleep..." George thinks, remembering that he is likely being televised.

"Ok so here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stay in this little root section for a bit, then work out how to climb a tree... simple..." George states to the hidden camera, masking the apprehension in his voice. 

He quickly quiets down, hearing leaves crunch softly in the distance. He shrinks back against the trunk of a tree, trying to keep himself hidden. He holds his breath, hearing scuffling above him as someone curses, running back from the way they came. 

George gets up, slowly exiting the roots to see if the person had passed. He hears a whoosh, dagger thumping in the tree trunk right by his ear. George shouts in surprise, looking toward the direction from which the dagger had been thrown. He sees another assassin load their bow; it's Vikk and Lazar. 

There was no way George could escape them both. He rolls to the side, unsheathing a throwing dagger and hurling it toward them as he runs the other direction. He hears a cry of pain as his dagger hits its mark, wincing at the fact he had just injured someone.

He looks behind him, seeing Vikk double over in pain, a dagger embedded in his thigh. Lazar holds him, trying to rip the sharp knife out of his leg. George ducks between trees, hopefully gaining enough ground in between them to look for another place to hide. 

His breaths come short a fast, wind whizzing past his ears as he runs as hard as he can. He takes out his bow, loading an arrow. Aiming from where he had come. He sees Lazar looking around, poking through vegetation, not really trying very hard to make himself quiet. George pulls back the string of the bow, aiming for the fatal kill. At the last second, before he can shoot, he falters... he was about to kill a man... 

Lazar looks up, and George doesn't realize what is happening until it's too late. He feels the searing pain in his shoulder, knowing Lazar had shot the arrow and succeded at hitting him. George cries in pain, clutching his hand over his left shoulder, trying to yank the arrow out. He can feel the warm blood trickling through his fingers, gasping with the intense pain he felt. 

He slides to his knees, knowing Lazar is about to kill him. He couldn't even fight back, as he had left his backpack alone in the gnarled roots. He sighs, tears forming in his closed eyes. This was it. He hears the crunch of leaves and the panting breath near, and George tries to clear his mind. He thinks of everyone he disappointed, apologizing to them all. He waits to feel some sort of pain, but he never does... What? George opens his eyes, seeing Lazar in front of him, lying facedown with an arrow sticking out of his back. 

George gasps, whipping his head around to see who had shot. He sees a flash of green to his right, crawling away from it fearfully. Someone appears suddenly beside him, black mask covering everything except those same beautiful green eyes George had wished he had seen that morning. 

It was him. 

The last thing George remembers before he faints is seeing Vikk go down right next to Lazar, an arrow stuck in his gut. The blood he had lost was taking a toll, making him dizzy. He felt to his right, strong arms wrapping around him and lowering him gently to the forest floor cushioned by leaves. 

Through half-lidded eyes, he sees the green cloak sweep across the ground, assassin looking down upon Vikk. He takes out his sword, pressing it lightly to Vikks back as he tries to stand.

He looks toward an invisible camera, look in his eyes enough to kill if his sword couldn't.

He looks back to Vikk, no mercy in his eyes. "Don't ever touch him. Again." He pushes the sword into Vikk's back, finally killing him.

The assassin drops his sword, running back to George. He picks him up gently off the leaves, hardness completely gone. "Oh god George I'm so sorry... don't die on me. Don't die. Stay alive ok? Stay. Alive."

George passes out again for the second time that week.

~

George wakes up, eyes flying open as he remembers he is in AO. Was he dead? He tries to sit up, realizing he is in a cave of some sort. He had to get out.

"Woah woah woah..." he hears behind him, gentle hands resting on his shoulders to prevent him from moving any more. George gasps, whipping around to see Sapnap smiling easily at him. "Hey, you're ok. It's me."

George breathes a sigh of relief. Thank goodness Sapnap is here. But... wait...

George's heartrate speeds back up again, stomach-dropping out of his feet. 

"The- the assassin- the assassin that found me- you didn't- oh god. You didn't kill him did you?" George asks desperately.

Sapnap laughs, shaking his head. "No, I didn't. I got there when he was cleaning your wound. Lover boy must have tons of sponsors. He used some kind of medicine on you and was bandaging you up. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

"I'm surprised too..." George trails off. "I would've killed me..."

"Oh whatever George come on you can't even kill a deer," Sapnap laughs, striking a nerve in George. That one had hurt.

"Oh... I- I'm sorry George I didn't mean it," Sapnap apologizes.

"No, no. I get it. I mean it's true..." George trails off dejectedly. "I couldn't kill Lazar... I just couldn't... I mean I looked at him and... I couldn't kill another human."

Sapnap sighs, putting a hand on George's uninjured right shoulder, knowing his best friend needed the comfort. "Anyways I'm pretty sure that assassin likes you anyways...."

"What?"

"Well... when he finished bandaging your shoulder, he was stroking your hair. I couldn't see his mouth, but I think he was whispering something to you. Something about... apples? I don't know it sounded quite random to me," Sapnap says, confused.

George's eyebrows knit together in confusion. What did apples have to do with anything? He shakes his head, looking back at Sapnap who is staring at the floor intently.

"Well, it's you and me. What do you think about teaming?" George asks. 

Sapnap's head pops up. A wide grin spreads across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh i hope you guys are liking the fic so far! just a bit of a warning, there is going to be some quick descriptions of blood and death in the upcoming chapters, but nothing too gruesome. I can't really write a hunger games type fanfic without having death lollll
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! they mean the world to me! I love you guys! <3


	7. Halfway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my god," Sapnap says quietly. "Who- who could kill all those people? Was it a task?"
> 
> George shakes his head. He didn't know. He clears his throat. "Hey Sapnap could you put out that fire? The smoke is making me cough," George says, coughing again.
> 
> Sapnap tries to speak but doubles over, coughing over and over again. 
> 
> George's eyes widen in terror, realizing what is happening. "P-poi-son.

The first thing that George sees when he opens his eyes is the gray stone of the cave. He and Sapnap had been teaming for a couple of days, and they hadn't run into anyone else. As far as their earpieces had told them, there were still only 3 assassins dead out of 35. 

George had been out exploring a couple of times, dagger at the ready just in case. He had gotten used to his early morning walks, the sunrise at his back. There was this tree that was on a hill, with branches sort of like a ladder to the top of it. George liked to climb it, and it was easy on his shoulder since the branches made a stairstep-like entry.

At the top of the tree, there was an extra thick branch, woven tightly with other branches to form a pretty spacious sitting area. Through a clearing in the leaves, George could look out over almost the entire arena. It had a perfect view of the sky too. 

George went to the tree whenever he felt like it, watching nature. Sometimes he would be lucky enough to watch the sunset or sunrise. George especially loved sitting there at night when he couldn't sleep. The stars were rather interesting to him. Along with seeing Capella, there were many other planets and constellations to witness. 

The stars helped ground George. Like, even though he thought this world was big, there were millions of other things out there that were bigger. He didn't know why this calmed him, but at this point, he wasn't going to complain. 

George sighs, sitting criss-cross underneath the shade of the leaves, watching the sun slowly rise. The trickles of pink-tinged sky break through the grey clouds, casting a lovely glow on the arena. How ironic. An arena full of death, and yet such a beautiful sky above it.

The light patter of the sprinkling rain on the leaves above George creates a very relaxing atmosphere. George reaches over and picks a peach out of the neighboring tree, taking a juicy bite. He wipes the juice running down his chin on the back of his hand, enjoying the sweetness.

He sighs contently, leaning his head back to rest on the trunk of the tree. He closes his eyes, letting the world around him continue to revolve, humming quietly to himself. He feels some sort of weird gaze on him. 

His eyes open, training kicking in, as he surveys the branches and leaves around him. It would be impossible for someone to spot him from the ground, the leaves were too thick, but someone could be up here with him.

George strains his ears, willing the slightest movement to alert him to the presence, but nothing happens. George sighs, looking over his shoulder, still on edge. I mean maybe it was just a random squirrel or something. George feels something big and heavy drop into his lap. He turns back over his shoulder, gasping in surprise.

It's his backpack! He could see the little goggle icon in the top right corner! He unzips it, finding all his old weapons in it, as well as 3 new items. Anti-infection cream for his shoulder, which is still bandaged, fresh bandages, and a crisp green apple. 

George smiles, looking up in the direction from which the backpack dropped. He smiles wider, seeing the tail end of the same emerald green cloak he is wearing and realizing who it was.

He shakes his head, knowing the assassin who saved his life won't come back even if he calls him. George unwraps the bandages and applies the cream. After he is done wrapping the new bandages, he takes the apple. He gives it a quick polish on his shirt and eats it with a delicious crunch. 

George had never had someone to take care of him like this. I mean, the boy saved his life for heaven's sake. George's own family didn't even come close to this random, hot assassin. George hadn't seen his face, not once, so maybe he didn't completely know if he was hot. 

Something in him just knew that his face would be as pretty as his personality. 

~

George returns to the cave after about an hour, seeing Sapnap sitting at the fire he had kindled. As the flames crack and pop underneath the spit where fresh meat was cooking, George sits down with his ally.

"So, what's the plan for today? We've been doing the same old thing, which don't get me wrong, is good. Still though- puts me on edge since we haven't seen anyone for a while," George says, looking at Sapnap when he doesn't respond.

Sapnap is looking intently at the fire, eyes unfocused. He seems to be mumbling something, but George can't read his lips.

"Sapnap?" George asks, louder this time.

"Hmm?" Sapnap snaps out of his trace, looking back at George. 

"Did you hear me? I asked you what the plan was for today. I think we should try and find some people to take out. Maybe we can pick up some more allies too," George says.

"Anyone in particular, George?" Sapnap questions suggestively, raising his eyebrows up and down. 

George just rolls his eyes. "No, you nimrod. I MOSTLY meant for the fact of taking out some people. I need to learn to be more heartless anyways," George says, laughing but not finding his statement funny.

Both agree to pack up after Sapnap eats. While George is sorting all the stuff into their separate backpacks, he notices the little flame on Sapnaps.

"Hey Sap this is a cool icon you picked! I like it!" George yells. 

Sapnap is in the middle of yelling his thanks when he is cut off by the robotic female voice calling for attention. That could only mean one thing.

"Ten deaths- Eliza Harris, Jimmy Butler, Sky Brown, Samual Jacobs, Jack Nichols, Rosa Yale, Jenny Tran, Tyrell Johnson, Lenny Earnest, Jake Taylor." Her voice statics out, shock filling George's face. 

"Oh my god," Sapnap says quietly. "Who- who could kill all those people? Was it a task?"

George shakes his head. He didn't know. He clears his throat. "Hey Sapnap could you put out that fire? The smoke is making me cough," George says, coughing again.

Sapnap tries to speak but doubles over, coughing over and over again. 

George's eyes widen in terror, realizing what is happening. "P-poi-son. Have to- out."

He stumbles over to Sapnap, pulling him up. They grab their backpacks, stumble-running in what they hope is the way out of the cloud of invisible death. Their eyes begin to start burning, and tears flood the vision of George. They take their capes and pull them over their mouths, getting a bit of relief from the poison. They begin to take staggering steps, running to a large lake. 

George inhales, finally getting fresh air. He collapses to the ground in a fit of coughing, Sapnap collapsing next to him. Everything burns. George dips a hand into the water, bringing the cool liquid to his mouth in an attempt to calm his flaming lungs. 

After they lie there for who knows how long, taking little sips of water, George's throat is still raw, but he feels like he could finally speak, at least. 

"Well," Sapnap rasps. "That honking sucked."

George laughs, wincing when his throat protests. "Don't make me laugh, nimrod."

"You sound like a smoker," Sapnap chuckles, voice just as raspy as George's. 

George rolls his eyes. 

They sit up, grabbing all their stuff and continuing on, making sure to keep their water bottles close. They don't see any other contestants, but the automated lady came back on to announce another 2 deaths. That was 15 deaths... in one day...

They were almost down to half their contestants, already. Surely the producers would take a break...

George's eyebrows knit together in concern, but he continues walking with Sapnap until they find another little cave; it is much smaller than the last. 

They pile all their stuff in, George telling Sapnap that he will take the first watch. George already misses his tree, but at least he can sit on the top of the cave. The good thing about the stars is that they were the only thing he could count on to never leave him. Well, Sapnap too.


	8. Accompanied Yet Alone

George sits in silence, staring up at the stars. 

He wished he could stay here forever.

Alas, the universe was moving on. He would have to, also. 

George takes out his dagger, tracing patterns absently in the dirt. He hears someone walking up behind him.

"Hey Sap. Couldn't sleep? I told you I'd take the first watch," George says gently.

George feels the cool metal of the razor-sharp dagger against his neck.

"Shut up. Come with me. Don't talk. Don't try to escape or I'll slit your throat," someone says, gruffly.

George takes a deep breath to avoid panicking, not really sure what to do. He doesn't see a way to disarm the other person behind him, so he gets up slowly. The person removes the dagger from his neck, instead, pressing it into his back right behind his heart.

He instructs George to hand him all his weapons, so naturally George only hands him the visible ones. The man then walks George away from the cave and his only ally. 

They walk, the other man shoving George, as George scans for anything that would be able to get him out of the situation. He has a dagger still hidden in his belt, so he works on slowly tucking his arm into his cloak so he can try and grab it without notifying the captor.

He moves his fingers ever so slightly, brushing the hilt. He slowly wraps his fingers around, and without warning he whips around, stabbing the dagger right into the man's heart. He doesn't even have time to react before he drops to the ground, dead. George's stomach churns as he pulls out the dagger, dripping red with blood. He wipes it on the ground, not wanting to think about what he had done. 

As the earpiece announces the death, name unfamiliar to George, he runs back to the cave to make sure Sapnap was still sleeping safely inside. He rounds the corner, panting, and sighs with relief when he sees Sapnap sprawled out in the same place he left him. 

George goes back to sitting on the roof of the cave, legs dangling, thinking about the man he had killed. It had pained him, but not as much as he thought it would. He feels terrible that he doesn't feel worse. Ironic how that worked. 

~

George sits by the lake the next morning, gathering water. 

Some friendly fish swim by, flicking their tails in greeting. George reaches to try and touch one, laughing at their shyness as they dart away from his hand. The water ripples underneath his light touch, warping Geroge's face. He sighs, wanting to stop feeling so alone. 

Of course, he had Sapnap, but he wanted someone to love him- really love him. Not the way you loved your best friends. He never got that fatherly relationship, and his childhood was robbed from him. Granted, he felt he couldn't complain since he had gotten wonderful treatment from the king. Well... as wonderful as someone who was paying for George to be poisoned once a month could be. 

George closes his eyes, imagining the most perfect person that he could have beside him. Blonde hair, freckles, and beautiful green eyes fill his vision. George blushes, opening his eyes. For a moment, it's like he is there. George can almost see the other boy's face reflected in the water. It's him. 

George is ripped from his thoughts of comfort when he hears a bloodcurdling scream. Sapnap. George gets up, sprinting in the direction of his only friend. He whips his bow out, arrow loaded and itching to be fired into the heart of whoever attempted to hurt his best friend. 

Branches tear at George's cloak as he practically flies in between the vegetation. They scratch his cheeks, blood tricking from the small cuts. George doesn't notice.

He breaks through a clearing, back at the cave. Panting, he looks around. It's too quiet...

George's pulse skyrockets, blood thumping in his ears. Where were they? He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He feels this... tug... in his chest. Suddenly, it's like someone has put a compass right into his hand, leading right to Sapnap. George knows where to go. He sprints off in the direction, hoping his inner voice was correct.

There. Sapnap was being shoved into a cart of some sort, bound and gagged. There are two assassins, both older. George quickly flattens himself against the back of a tree trunk. He had one shot...

He takes a deep breath, somehow knowing the exact position of the assassin before he can even look. He quickly pokes his head out, sending the arrow flying. Before the first guy can even hit the ground, George has another arrow docked and ready, sending it straight into the heart of his enemy. 

One assassin is still alive, writhing on the ground in pain. George walks over to him, giving him a look that could freeze fire. 

"You deserve no mercy, yet I will give it to you," George says, stabbing his sword down lethally.

He takes Sapnap out, cutting his ropes and untying his mouth. Sapnap's eyes widen, color draining from his face when he sees the corpses of his attackers. "Did-did you kill them?" Sapnap asks. 

"Yeah I did," George says, reality finally sinking in. He had just killed two more people. "I had to. I couldn't let them take you."

Sapnap looks down at his hands. 

"Did they do anything to you? Are you ok?" George asks, paternal-like instincts kicking in as he checks over Sapnap. 

"I'm fine George. Thanks for saving me," Sapnap reassures George, taking his offered hand to help him out of the cart. 

"People must know something... I mean we've gotten targeted twice in two days. We went the first week without seeing barely anyone. How the heck is that possible?" George asks, troubled. 

"I don't know..." Sapnap trails off. "We need more allies. I think we should look into recruiting two more people."

"Good idea. We need to be moving too. Staying in the same place is obviously not going to work. Did you meet anyone in particular at training? I met a few, but none of them seem like good teaming options. We need to win this," George says, determined. 

Sapnap shakes his head, saying he did not meet anyone. George sighs and they make plans to get back to the cave and pack up their stuff. On the walk back, they are silent except for a few rushed ideas of how to make their stuff more mobile. 

After a while, George decides to make himself useful again. He sets off to pick berries and find other food. 

He walks back down to the lake, gathering the pail for the water he had spilled a while ago. He uses it to start gathering some of the sweet raspberries off a nearby bush. He smells one to make sure it isn't poisoned. He sees some apples, picking up the half-full pail and hauling it over to pick them. 

He hears... laugher. 

Real laughter. Coming from deeper in the forest. George looks around, deciding to go check it out. I mean what was the harm, right? 

He walks, following the joyous sound. It sounds like a man and a woman, but he can't be sure. 

He gracefully jumps to a rock, vaulting onto a nearby branch to get a good look at the two from a distance. He first sees the woman, her honey blonde hair shining in the sunlight. She laughs, fairy-esque and light as a feather. She would be considered beautiful to most people. 

The guy comes into view, shoving her as she whispers something in his ear. He wheezes, shaking his head. George decides to look around, searching for anything that could help him identify the pair. Then, he sees it...

The emerald cloak. He fingers the fabric of his identical cloak, stomach feeling like it had been stuffed with rocks. It was him again. With a girl. Laughing. Having fun. Without him.

George didn't know why he suddenly felt like crying. Why should he care? He didn't even know the name of the boy. He shouldn't care this much about strangers. He sighs, throat getting that ever too familiar tight feeling that warned him he was about to cry. 

He jumps off the branch, boots landing softly on the leaves. He sniffs, wiping his eyes angrily as tears fill them. Why was he so... sad? He runs away from the two, needing to get away from the gut-wrenching scene. He gets back to the lake, sliding down the trunk of the tree as his angry tears finally spill.

"Why am I so sad? I- I don't care about him," George says, voice cracking as he lies. 

He swears under his breath, pulling his knees to his chest and putting his head in his hands. He grabs his hair, pulling. The slight twinge of pain pulls him back to reality. He couldn't cry. His best bet would be to get them to team with him and Sapnap. 

He wipes his tears, trudging back to the group. He calls to them, telling them he is unarmed. 

"It's just me. It's George," George says, putting his hands up when the woman comes out, bow pointed at his chest. 

"I- hi. I know him," George gestures at the assassin, whose recent happiness was wiped off his face. He always had the stoniest of expressions, unreadable and devoid of emotion. Not a judging or angry look, but not a positive one either. 

The girl looks to George's acquaintance, and he nods to confirm. 

She smiles, lowering her bow. 

"Apologies!" her voice is sickly sweet. "I'm Aeline! It's nice to meet you! Me and Dream are teamed."

She holds out her hand for George to shake, but gets ignored. George looks to the assassin, who makes no move to deny. 

"She- you told her your name?" George asks 'Dream', his stupid voice cracking again. Oh, how many times could his heart be broken?

"Oh, not really! I just call him that. I mean look how dreamy he is! Just fit, I guess," she trails off. 

George bites his bottom lip, trying hard not to cry again. Tears prick at the back of his eyes, threatening to overflow if he didn't think about something else. He takes a deep breath, asking what he came for. 

"Umm. I just came to offer to team. I have a partner, his name is Sapnap. I just- yeah," George says, emotionless and looking at the ground. "I mean it's not like we have another choice."

Aeline and Dream look to each other, silent discussion making George feel even worse than he already did. 

"We shall team. Take us to your setup?" Aeline asks, grabbing her backpack as Dream grabbed his. 

"This way," George says, voice flat as he turns away from the group. He wasn't going to give Dream the satisfaction of making him cry.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, turning him gently around. Dream's hand goes to George's cheek, tracing over the cuts George had forgotten he had. Dream's eyebrows crease in concern looking at George with a questioning glance.

George hates that he still blushes at the minuscule contact. His bottom lip trembles as he looks down, blinking hard as he turns away to walk back toward Sapnap. He couldn't let Dream get to him like that. 

He takes them both back past the lake, grabbing the pail from beside the tree he had set it by. They walk to the cave, George announcing his presence as he sets the pail with the fruit by the little cave entrance. Sapnap yells hello from within the cave. When he comes out, George makes the introductions. Sapnap smiles at the two, shaking their hands. He tells Aeline that it was nice to have a female in the mix. Normally George would laugh, but right now that was just about the worst slap to the face he could have experienced. 

Sapnap looks to George with raised eyebrows, but he can immediately see the hurt on George's face. George looked emotionally drained. Sapnap couldn't tell if he was about to cry or about to punch someone. 

George dismisses himself from the conversation, leaving to go to his familiar spot on the hill. He sits, taking a deep breath. He allows himself one tear, dripping off his chin. He sniffs, laying down on his back. He looks up to the sky once again, trying to distract himself with the passing clouds overhead. 

He hears the three laughing about something, as another piece of his heart cracks off. Why was he like this? He knew it was stupid to hope. To speculate. He knew Dream could never be his. 

So if he knew all this stuff, why did it still hurt worse than a dagger to the gut?


	9. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George sneaks a quick peek at the Royal. He had this smile on his face. The first genuine, whole smile George had seen. That same strange feeling of recognition ran through him again. But there was no way he knew the boy before... right? 
> 
> "You look nice when you smile," George hums. "You should do it more often. It looks good on you."
> 
> He blushes, returning to the familiar stony expression.

George re-joins the group, but he spends as little time with them as possible. He grabs his serving of soup at dinner, sneaking off to his usual spot on the hill. It pains George, knowing he probably didn't even have to sneak. It's not like anyone there cared about him anymore.

Sapnap had a major crush on Aeline- that was evident. George rolls his eyes as he hears Sapnap laughing at yet another joke that she made that wasn't funny. Of course he would have to get stuck with the most attractive female assassin teamed with Dream. 

At least the soup is good, George thinks as he drinks it out of the can. When he finishes it, he sets the can down and lies on his back. He stares up at the clouds, moving fast against the pastel pink sky. George loved it when the sun was setting. 

He smiles as he sees a little bunny formed of puffy white float across his vision. And look! There was a little flower! George smiles at the simplistic beauty of it all. He interlocks his hands behind his head and pulls his knees up to get more comfortable. 

Leaves crunch as someone walks up and lies beside him. George doesn't look over, too pissed at everyone. "Sapnap I don't need you to come over here and tell me how stupid I am for being angry. But I mean you really can't blame me, can you? That stupid little high voice and her pretty hair... I mean I know that Dream may not like her but still..." George trails off, venting.

He hears a throat clear beside him, so he looks over. When his eyes meet the masked face a foot away from his own, his eyes widen. 

"Uhhhh- Dream. Umm yeah I don't know what I was talking about there. Wow funny how words work sometimes- umm- how- what can I do for you?" George stutters, turning his face away from Dream's to hide his tomato red face. 

He is met with silence.

"Oh right, yes you won't talk to me. You talk and laugh with everyone else, but I'm just not good enough for you, am I? Well, my bad. I just won't talk to you anymore. See if I care, nimrod," George says angrily, pushing himself up.

Dream puts his hand gently on George's knee, preventing him from getting up. George casts an irritated look toward Dream, met by Dream's usual emotionless expression.

"I just don't get it Dream. Why do you talk to everyone besides me? I mean you've saved my life for gods sake and I can't even thank you because you won't accept it! You've done all these nice things for me, and I haven't done a single thing for you. Seems rather pointless for you to keep trying to be nice," George says, shaking his head. 

"I mean honestly, I'm not even sure why I should expect you to talk to me. I've just been a drain on your life, haven't I? Stupid little George, not ever able to do anything. Well, I'll have you know that sweet little George has killed three people. So suck on that." George crosses his arms, huffing. 

Dream looks over slowly, scrunching his eyebrows together as if to playfully say I don't believe that.

George just rolls his eyes. "Why don't you get back to your girlfriend? I'm sure she'll be missing you," he says, coldly. Dream just shakes his head, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

Speaking of that devils-spawn, her shrill voice echoes as she calls for Dream. Her voice is beginning to feel like a thousand tiny hammers beating on George's head. Dream sighs softly, getting up and going to her. That really pisses George off. 

He takes his can, going to throw it away in the bag of trash they were keeping.

"I'm going to bed early," he snaps at Sapnap. He walks to the cave, getting in his sleeping bag. He rolls over, trying to use his backpack as a pillow. 

I bet stupid Aeline won't need a backpack for a pillow tonight. She can just cuddle with stupid Dream, George thinks bitterly. As he hears the joyful exclamations from the other members of his team, he can't help but wish he wasn't so jealous.

He finally falls asleep, tears soaking his backpack. 

~

The next day, the team decides to move out to a different area. They agree that they need to stay somewhere in the forest, most preferably by a river. After walking for like an hour, they find the perfect place.

It is similar to the tree that George loved so much from a while ago. Thickly woven branches make a sort of stair-step to the middle of the tree, thick branches making a canopy strong enough for them to stand on and sleep on. 

They decided to start a fire at the base of the tree and sleep on the top half. George eats a handful of sweet raspberries for lunch, slipping an apple in his backpack for if he got hungry. He couldn't stomach another day filled with high pitched laughter, so he decides to hunt a little. 

He creeps along the forest floor, tracking some rabbit prints he saw not too far away. His ears focus in, listening for the rustling leaves that will point him to the rabbit. He remembers the weird tug he felt inside of him the other day, telling him the exact location of Sapnap's attacker. Maybe he could do it again...

George takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, visualizing the rabbit. When he opens them, it's like the rabbit's prints have been highlighted. They are so much clearer, and George feels a tugging inside of him, the direction following the prints. 

He smiles, acting on instinct as he crouches and creeps along with the trees. There! A large brown rabbit sits, munching on grass. He pulls his bow, drawing it back silently. He lets the arrow fly straight into the heart of the rabbit. 

He smiles, delighted at his quick work. He pulls the arrow, placing the rabbit gently into his empty backpack. He says a quick prayer for the rabbit, feeling sad it had to die, and works on looking for more. 

After a couple of hours, George has three rabbits and two birds of some sort. They were pretty big and didn't seem to fly. Must have been one of the species native to AO. George drops the meat off at camp, leaving the skinning and butchering for Sapnap. George just couldn't stomach that part. 

He picks up the water pail, seeing it needed refilling, and takes it to the river. As he is walking back, pail full, Dream jumps out from hiding behind a tree, scaring the living daylights out of George.

"GOD!" George exclaimed, hand over his pounding heart. "Don't DO that!" 

George notices Dream's different mask. This one is ceramic and has a cute little smile on it. It covers his entire face, minus his lips. George can see the hint of a smile lingering on his face. Finally, George could see the facial expressions Dream was making. 

"Hmm you'll really have to watch out now," George teases. "I can actually see your facial expressions. You're in troubleeeee."

Dream rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He holds out his hand, looking quizically at George. When George looks back with the same expression, Dream beckons for the pail with his fingers. George gently hands it off, secretly flattered Dream offered to carry it. 

They walk back in comfortable silence, the only sound was the leaves crunching beneath their boots. There was a nice wind coming through, keeping them cold but not too cold. For the first time in a while, the sun poked out from behind the clouds. Maybe it wouldn't be dark today!

Upon arrival back at the camp, Dream sets down the pail. George mutters a quick thank you, climbing the branches to the sleeping section of the tree. He wanted to see if he could climb to the actual top, sitting on top of the leaves. 

He successfully climbs the rest of the tree, thank goodness, and sits by himself. Up here, the sun soaks into his skin as he just looks out over the strangely serene view. It's as if the robot lady can sense his relaxation because she comes on to let them know of another death. It's a man he had never heard of before. 

If it wasn't already bad enough, a light drizzle begins to fall, splashing the leaves as well as George. He sighs, but decides to stay up here. Maybe he needed the shower. He imagined his stress and emotions washing away, the rain getting heavier. 

He closes his eyes, tipping his head back as he sits, trying to wash away who he once was. He thinks of his family, wondering how his dad was managing back home without his one son to take care of him. He didn't think his dad realized just how much George had helped.

He thinks of Sapnap, wanting to preserve those memories. They were best of friends, and even though he thought Aeline was hot, George couldn't blame him, really. I mean, he would have thought she was hot too if he didn't have eyes for another. 

Those beautiful eyes that he could stare into forever. Oh, how he longed to get lost in them. Maybe it was just because Dream had been the only one to take care of him, but George knew he felt something different toward Dream. Something... unexplainable. He had never felt anything quite like it, before.

"Hello Dream," George says, sensing the other boy slide to sit next to him. 

He hears the deep chuckle he had been hoping for, turning to see Dream's little smile. George's heart fluttered at the sight of his ally. He heaves a sigh, leaning back on his hands. 

"You know, I know you'll never talk to me. Maybe that's ok. Maybe I don't deserve it," George thinks out loud. "I mean really, what have I done to deserve it? Anyways, maybe this is an opportunity to get to talk to you. Since you never talk, you're a really good listener."

George smiles softly, looking to Dream.

"Care if I tell you a story?" 

Dream smiles the tiniest bit, nodding his head for George to continue.

"Well, let's start with my backstory. I am a poison tester for the King. Always have been, and probably always will be. It sucks, but it at least compensates me and my family. I lived with my dad before all this. He isn't the best parent. I didn't really have much of a childhood. I had to grow up fast, taking care of him when he had drunk too much. As I got older, the more he drank. He became this... this monster. I don't even know who he is anymore..." George trails off.

"So, I threw myself into assassin training. I have been since a young age. I had to teach myself most everything I know now. It was hard, but I used to sit and watch the Noble Assassins train. It was part of the King's gift to me. He always wanted me to be part of the Noble Assassins."

"So I watched, and I learned. Little 12 year old me loved to watch training, and I even met some of the kinder Noble Assassins. I'll never forget this one guy. His name was Erik. He taught me how to throw my first dagger," George smiles fondly at the memory. "He was so patient with me. We went at it for two straight hours, before I finally hit a bullseye. He was as excited as I was."

"That was the closest thing I had ever had to a dad. I never got to talk with him again, but I see him all the time. He always smiles at me or pats me on the shoulder when I attend training. As I grew, I didn't have as much time to watch training, but I tried to make it as often as I could."

George looks out across the view, absently messing with a leaf as he continues. 

"After I turned 16, the King gave me and my dad a really nice house, complete with my own arena. I was so excited. I started training every free moment, every single day. I loved every second. It was there that I met Sapnap."

"He was walking past my house, and he tripped over the fence. I remember laughing at him, and he stumbled up and laughed too. There was this sort of instant bond between us. We have hung out ever since. I've trained him quite a bit since then."

"And then I met this boy one day. He never told me his name. I met him when he stole an apple from one of my friend's shops. I would never tell him, but he was pretty amazing. He found me after the guards stopped looking for him," George shakes his head, grinning at the memory of the cute thief. "He was a Knight. He taught me how to shoot a bow. We talked for a while. To be honest, I expected him to be an arrogant prat," George hears a stifled chuckle beside him.

"And I mean he was, but there was something different about this Knight. He was just so- down to earth I guess? I don't know how to explain it. I wish I would've gotten to see him again. He was- sweet," George blushes. "It's stupid, really. I'm sure he doesn't even remember I exist."

George sighs, remembering the cute boy. How he longed to have just pried a little more to get the boy's name out of him.

"Maybe in another life, we could have been something more. I don't know, it's stupid to think. He was way out of my league... Plus, I think I found someone else anyway," George trails off blushing as he realizes he had just sorta admitted his feelings to Dream. "Well I mean- someone else as in- well you know."

George sneaks a quick peek at the Royal. He had this smile on his face. The first genuine, whole smile George had seen. That same strange feeling of recognition ran through him again. But there was no way he knew Dream. 

"You look nice when you smile," George hums. "You should do it more often. It looks good on you."

The Royal quickly snaps out of it, returning to his usual stony expression. George rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Wait a minute. Was that a blush he saw? Dream's cheeks looked slightly pinker than usual, but it could've just been the lighting. 

"Well, at least I got a smile out of you. Maybe one day, you'll talk to me," George laughs, holding his hand out to catch some of the rain. He was soaking wet by now, taking off his heavy cloak, filled with water. He drops it down to the sleeping area, completely dry and protected by leaves. 

His black assassin's uniform was mostly waterproof, so it didn't feel as wet. Dream did the same, starting to unzip his assassin's uniform. He pulled the zipper down halfway, slipping his arms out of the sleeves. George's eyes widen as he stares at his bare chest. 

He had forgotten how muscular Dream was. He didn't know why he was so caught off guard. He had already had an embarrassing run-in with a bare-chested Dream. That still didn't stop him from raking his eyes across Dream's body. 

He hears a throat clear, slightly shaking his head to snap out of his trace. Dream is staring at him, an amused smirk on his face. 

George goes a deep red, looking back down. 

Getting over Dream was proving to be a lot harder than he thought.


	10. Under the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George learns a very interesting fact about his ally

George sighs, shivering slightly. He had been up in the tree with Dream for about an hour or so. George had stopped talking after a while, just letting unspoken words pass between them. In that time, the sun had set completely, the frigid wind blowing fairly hard up high in the tree. 

George sits up, curling into a ball with his knees pulled into his chest to conserve body heat. He subconsciously starts to lean toward Dream, teeth chattering. Dream was laying down beside George, eyes closed. George was pretty sure he fell asleep a while ago.

George wanted to go grab his cloak, but he thought he would disturb Dream. In hindsight, George could probably get up without waking him. Every time he had been with Dream, Dream had slept like a baby. George quietly gets up, slowly moving to lower himself down to the sleeping area. 

Dream mumbles something, reaching out and feeling around. George looks up, confused at the distressed look on his teammate's face. George puts his hand out, based solely on a whim, grabbing Dream's hand. Dream immediately relaxes, soft smile spreading contagiously across his face.

George breaths out a laugh, shaking his head as Dream's grip tightens comfortably around his hand. He reaches out with his free hand, smoothing back the Dream's fluffy hair since his hood had fallen down. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind of taking Dream's mask off.

George knows he would never. There was just something in him that knew Dream would never forgive him. Plus, there had to be a reason he kept it on. George didn't know that for sure, but what he did know was that he would always respect Dream's wishes, even if he didn't understand them.

George looks back at Dream, gasping softly in surprise when he realizes Dream is staring at him. George can't tell if he likes the hand that was smoothing through his hair moments ago, or if he is ready to murder him. He experimentally removes both his hands, losing all contact with him. Dream's eyebrows scrunch together, but he allows the withdrawal. 

"You know, I don't think I could ever tell you enough how weird I think you are. You're like... you're like both sides of a coin. I swear sometimes you just turn into this little fluffy and soft Dream, and then the next minute you're ready to freeze someone to death just by looking at them with that icy stare you always have!" George laughs.

Dream smiles, eyes crinkling, as he shakes his head. He looks back at George, sitting up. George sees something change in his eyes- he was debating something. He blinks once, looking back up at George, silent as always. 

"Aww man, you know for a second there you really had me! I thought you were about to talk!" George says, smiling. "I can tell, I've almost got it out of you!"

Dream chuckles, ducking his head. Suddenly, Dream gasps sharply in pain. He turns to George, and there is an arrow sticking out of his chest, blood running down his uniform. George's blood turns to ice as he sees the expression on Dream's face. The brave, macho, strong assassin was afraid. 

George whips into action, reaching to his bow and calling on that tug he always felt toward his foe. Acting on instinct, he fires right in between two trees in the distance, hearing the distant cry of pain, and then a thud as they drop. The robotic lady makes her appearance in his earpiece once again.

George throws his bow to the side, attention back on his friend. 

"Oh god Dream, what the hell happened?" George asks, not sure what to do. He knows he's going to have to pull the arrow out. "Ok, I need you to take a deep breath for me. This- yeah this is going to hurt."

George hopes to god that the arrow didn't pierce anything vital, closing his eyes as he feels Dreams chest rise. In one swift motion, he rips the arrow from his chest, wincing as Dream lets out a cry of pain, muffled slightly by his clenched teeth. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" George mews, checking the wound. "Thanks to your donors, I still have some of that stuff from when I was shot. Thank goodness that healed..." George trailed off. 

George gets his backpack, pulling out the bandages and cream. He spreads it on Dream's chest, being extra ginger. He wraps his chest up, making sure the bandages are tight so the bleeding will stop. 

"Ok. I did the best I could..." George trails. "You should be ok. Just in pain for a while."

Dream grunts as he sits up, leaning back against part of the tree with a moan of pain. George sees a single tear roll down Dream's face, knowing he must be hurting really badly. Dream wasn't one to express much emotion unless he was really feeling it. 

"There, you nimrod. Now I can pay you back for everything you've done for me. At least now I don't owe you anything," George says, trying to lighten the mood and distract his teammate. 

"Well, I mean I guess I could tell you another story if you wanted it?" George suggests. "Whatever distracts you... maybe it's stupid..." 

Dream nods his head eagerly, wanting to hear more about George. George smiles, flattered by his attention. 

"Ok. So there was once, a long time ago, that I was invited to the castle. I believe I was about 15 or 16. I was there for a new sort of poison testing that the King felt I should get. Of course, I got violently ill, not even able to get out of the castle without throwing up everywhere. It was disgusting," George says, wincing at the memory. 

"So, the King provided me with a little room inside the hospital ward until I could get on my feet again. I laid there for who knows how long, watching the dust swirl in the air against the stained glass windows. I remember feeling slightly better, but I wanted to get outside."

"I finally found the way to this little garden. It had little rose bushes lining the way, and a nice koi pond in the center. I sat on one of the benches, breathing in the fresh air and talking to the fish," George hears Dream laugh, shooting him a death glare. "HEY! I was a lonely kid, ok? Geez... continuing! So anyway I was sitting there, and I hear boots clicking on the cobblestones. I thought it was the King, so I got up to shake his hand or bow or whatever you do to nobles."

"Instead, I saw a boy. He was probably no older than me. I don't remember what he looked like at all. His eyes narrowed as he asked what I was doing in his garden. I was a pretty firey child, not going to lie, so I told him that I didn't see his name on it," George laughs at his immaturity. "I remember asking 'who do you think you are, the King?'. He responded with, no you idiot I'm his son..."

"My eyes got so wide, and I bowed quickly to him, trying so desperately to get him to forgive my idiocy. He just shook his head, laughed once, and told me to stop bowing. He said he didn't expect anyone to bow to him. He said he did little, and there wasn't anything he did to deserve respect. It was honestly a little sad. He sounded so... disappointed in himself," George said, looking to Dream who was looking everywhere but at George.

"So, I asked if he wanted to talk about it, not expecting him to say yes, but he did. He told me of his hopes, and how he wanted to be a much better ruler than his father. He told me of all these plans he had that none of the advisors or his father took seriously. The thing I really remember most from this talk was 'I have so many plans, so many ideas, with nobody to carry them out. I am a book full of knowledge, shoved to the back of the shelf'. That really stuck with me," George says. 

"Sometimes I think of him. The Prince. I do wonder how he is doing now. I hope he found some sort of peace," George sighs. 

"He did," Dream says quietly. 

George gasps, turning to Dream. "THE BOY SPEAKS!!!" George laughs happily.

There is something about his voice that sounds so familiar... it is as if they had met before.

"The boy. I mean the Prince? He did find peace. He still wonders how he will rule the country when his father hands over the crown. He always has. He doesn't think he is really good enough. I mean how could he run an entire country on his own, when there is nobody to train him?" Dream sighs, laughing bitterly. 

"The Prince tries day after day to preach his ideas, only to be met with no's and people telling him that he isn't good enough. He's heard it so many times, he's starting to wonder if it's true," Dream says trailing off. "He just wants someone that understands him. A while ago, he did meet someone. They aren't super close yet, but he has always wanted to get to know him more."

"But Dream- how do you know all this stuff?" George asks gently. "I mean I know you're a noble. Are you the Prince's knight?"

Dream laughs bitterly, looking at George. The pain in his eyes is still there, but it softens slightly with just a glimpse at Geroge.

"No," Dream mutters, softly.

"I'm the Prince."


	11. Too Good To Be True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend the rest of the night chattering, shared smiles and giggles like secrets. They finally nod off to sleep, when Sapnap comes up to check on them. He smiles, seeing George's head resting on Dream's shoulder, and Dream's head resting on top of George's. He leaves them be. 
> 
> They are finally at peace, but for how long?

"But- wha- how did I not know?" George asks, bewildered. 

Dream smiles softly at him from under the white ceramic mask, mirroring the smile he had painted onto it. "Because I didn't need you to know. Nor do I need the viewers or assassins of AO to know." 

"Dream they are literally covering everything. We have a microphone on us right now," George whispers. 

Dream chuckles, looking over at George. "I'm Prince. They won't cover this. My father made arrangements. Now, let us talk about all the things you've called me. Ironic how many times you've mislabeled me..." Dream trails off, smirking.

George rolls his eyes. "Look, I knew you were a prat, and you still are. You're just a royal one."

Dream laughs good-naturedly, shaking his head and smiling at George. 

"You know, all this time, I thought you would be like the rest of them. The assassins anyway. I don't know why, since I could tell there was something different about you since the day I met you," Dream comments. 

"Well, the only times we have met was briefly when we were children, and in AO, so I don't know why you say that..." George trails off bashfully. "I mean, I'm just ordinary after all. Maybe even below that."

"Well, I don't think you are a nobody, for what it's worth. Maybe if you hadn't caught me stealing then I wouldn't have gotten tangled up with you. After all, it is I who says they are nothing but a nobody..." Dream trails off, putting a hand on the underside of his mask and lifting it all the way off his face.

George sees the freckles, fluffy blonde hair, and the emerald eyes he loved all fall into place together. This was the person he knew. The person he wanted to be close with. 

Then, a flood of memories comes back to George. The thief from the village... the apple... the archery lesson... all of that was- well it was all Dream. 

Dream breaths out a laugh, nodding his head. "Yeah, that was me. You were the only friend I had when I was 16. On that day we sat by the koi pond, I knew you were something different. I hadn't ever had friends my age. So, I snuck out of the palace almost every day, making trips into the town in hopes I would see you again," Dream admits.

"I actually saw you sitting at training many times. I was down there with the assassins, training myself so I could train my Knights when the time came. I learned all I know from them. Just one of the... many... perks of being Prince, I guess. But anyway, I just... I liked you. You were something I hadn't ever experienced. You were my little breath of fresh air. That day when I stole the apple, I knew you'd come after me. That's why I did what I did," Dream says.

"I don't often steal, so of course after you left to train, I bought that man's entire shop and a new plot of land for him," Dream says while waving his hand dismissively, tone indicating this was nothing to him. "Then, I came looking for you. I wasn't going to talk to you, but I did. You were exactly as I remembered."

"And now, here we are. I never thought I would talk to you, to be quite honest. I wasn't planning on it. And before you ask, no, it's not because I hate you or anything like that. Not at all. I just... I was worried if you knew who I was, you wouldn't appreciate me anymore. I know how much you hate the King. I couldn't bear it if you hated me too. I think- well I think we could be great friends," Dream says, shyly. 

George smiles as Dream looks down bashfully. He hadn't seen this side of Dream very often. "Well, fortunately for you SOMEONE has to keep you on your toes, so I will be your friend on one condition," George smiles. Dream nods for him to state his demand. "I want to be able to treat you like a friend, not like the Prince or whatever the heck you are."

"That- that would be perfect, actually," Dream's smile widens, impossibly. "I would like that."

"Good!" George exclaims. "Now are you going to tell me why you are such a clot pole?!? Why on EARTH would you not talk to me until now!? I swear, if I had known I was talking to a ROYAL nimrod, I wouldn't have given you any different respect!" George teases, chuckling.

They spend the rest of the night chattering, shared smiles and giggles like secrets. They finally nod off to sleep, when Sapnap comes up to check on them. He smiles, seeing George's head resting on Dream's shoulder, and Dream's head resting on top of George's. He leaves them be. 

~

George wakes up in the morning, quickly sitting back when he realized his head was on Dream's shoulder. He moved Dream's head, so Dream jerks awake as well. George apologizes for stirring the Prince, going to check on his wound. 

"Unbelievable," George breaths. "You're- you're healed."

Dream blinks a couple of times, hidden underneath the mask. "Yeah. That's another thing I wanted to-"

Dream is cut off as there is a deep rumbling heard from the borders of AO. They both look up in confusion, both boys placing their hands on their respective daggers. It's as if it was planned. The side of the wall to their left explodes, foreign people flooding into the arena, battle cries carried over the wind. 

"What the hell?" Dream whispers softly. "Sapnap! Aeline? GET UP HERE!" Dream yells, seeing them both scramble up. 

"Get the stuff. George you too, backpacks only. We need to get out of here. There is only one way. We're gonna have to go by treetop. Are you guys fit for that?" Dream asks, taking charge. 

Both members of the team nod, grabbing their packs. 

"Now, there are too many of them for us to fight. They are Etrudide fighters. Father briefed me on them several times. I'll explain later when we have more time. I know our assassins will be down there, as well as the Knights. I know both groups, and they know me. They will protect us once we get in range. Trust me. We need to do this, and we can do this," Dream says confidently. "Stay with me."

The three other members nod grimly but determined. They start hopping from branch to branch, George noticing he isn't even afraid of heights anymore. Strange... they make it across for or five trees before the throng of Etrudide soldiers is below them. They make as little noise as possible, trying to go undiscovered. 

They are to the very last tree, Dream mouthing how they are going to get down when George's ears perk. 

"Guys! Assassins!" one of the soldier's whispers to the rest of the enemies, seemingly out of earshot. George hears him though. His eyes widen with fear, telling Dream quickly that they needed to get out of there. 

"GO GO GO!" Dream yells, Etrudide soldiers seen running back towards them. All the members drop gracefully from the tree, boots pounding the ground as they retreat. They start blindly shooting arrows behind them, a couple hitting true. They are 50 feet from the entrance when they see the first Enfernian Knights. 

They are set up, firing arrow after arrow right into the middle of the Etrudide soldier pack, downing them one after another. The Knight that seems to be the commander notices the assassins running. 

"Knights! Protect your Prince!" The King roars, Knights fighting with a renewed force once they realize their ruler was present. The assassins make it across the line of protection, luckily untouched.

"The Prince? Where is the Prince?" George hears the king roar. 

"I'm here father!" Dream winces, walking toward the voice. The rest of the assassins follow. 

"My Lord," Dream bows. "I must get back to the front of the line. It's my duty to fight for Enfernia."

The King nods grimly. "Then go you must. Be careful."

Dream nods curtly, and with a sweep of his cape, he draws his sword and rushes back to his Knights to help them hold back the enemy line. George turns to help, Aeline and Sapnap right behind him.

They all draw their swords, rushing into the sea of bodies.

~

George stands, breathing heavily, over one of the last breathing enemies. He drives his sword into his heart, taking his life with a grimace. Sapnap comes behind George, resting a hand on his shoulder. He knew how much George hated killing people. 

"Listen up," Dream yells, thrusting his sword in the air. "You all fought valiantly. I can see you have learned well at Training. I am proud of that. We will continue as scheduled tomorrow at dawn. For now, I have an announcement that requires you all to be at the royal court. After that, I am dismissing you all from the castle until training tomorrow. What you chose to do with that time is up to you."

The Knights cheer, wide smiles on their faces as they bow to their Prince. Dream gives them all a quick nod, stepping toward where his teammates were watching from the sidelines.

"I do hope the other assassins escaped. Obviously, we aren't still doing the challenge..." Dream trails off, sheathing his sword with a click and pulling off his smile mask to reveal his face, red with exertion. "I wanted to say, you all fought with honor today. There is no denying that. I would like to escort all three of you to the royal court to hear the announcement as well."

Aeline smiles and curtseys deeply. "Thank you, my Lord. You have been nothing but gracious to me. I am sorry for mislabeling you. You are a wonderful Prince, and I am honored to have helped you."

"T-thank you Aeline," Dream says, smiling. 

Aeline bows again, flouncing off to who knows where. Sapnap bows quickly, clapping George once on the shoulder as he walks after her to flirt more.

George had been looking at the ground, and when he looks up, noticing the quiet, he sees the arrogant expression on Dream's face. 

"Oh, don't expect me to kiss up to you like the rest of those idiots did. I'm not a butt-kisser like Aeline. Oh Dweam oh my goodness you are just so pretty and the best in all the land!" George mocks Aeline's voice, making it much higher pitched.

"Hmm, that will do. I had no idea you thought so highly of me," Dream says with a cocky grin. "You know you're going to have to address me with respect now, right?"

George looks up, surprised. "But- but I thought you said we were friends?"

"We are George. That doesn't change the fact that I'm your Prince. You still owe me the title, at least. If you have a problem with that, then we can't be friends. Aeline doesn't seem to have a problem. Maybe I should talk to her about being friends," Dream says, arrogance and selfishness heard in his voice. He is met with the bewildered and hurt look of George. 

"Well I mean come on? Aeline has saved my butt more times than I could count!" Dream says, oblivious to George's wounded feelings. 

"You know what, fine. See if I care. You want to go kiss up to Aeline be my guest. I'm done with this," George says, defeated, angry, and hurt. "You know, for a second there I thought- well I thought you might actually have been the person you said you were. But you aren't. You're just like all the rest of them. You don't see anything I've done for you. I will never be good enough in your eyes."

George turns on his heel, walking in the direction of his other teammates, fists clenched in anger. He would attend the announcement, and then he could be done with all this. Done with AO, and done with trying to be an assassin. Most of all, done with Dream. 

Just when he had thought they could've been friends.

"I don't need anyone. I'll be fine on my own. I can-," George can't even finish his sentence, sob choking it's way out of him. 

He takes his dagger out of his belt, throwing it on the ground forcefully.

He wouldn't be needing it anymore.


	12. Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is given an interesting position.

The large stained glass windows shine multicolored lights onto the floor of the courtroom, mockingly cheery against George's stormy mood. He stands, scowling, in the crowd of Knights. Sapnap and Aeline are next to him. Sapnap notices his friend's distress, putting an arm around Geroge's shoulder. 

George sighs, leaning into his friend's touch.

The King enters, announced by one of the Noble Knights, and the room lowers, sinking into a low bow to honor their Noble. They all bow again on the announcement of Dream, but George does not. Why should he? Both rulers sit in their thrones, calculating eyes sweeping around the room.

"My men! We have fought a great battle today, and you all helped me win it. Thanks to your efforts, we have gained a new nation. Etrudide is now under our control, and we didn't even have to travel to them. Thanks to your bravery, we conquered a new nation. Our people are saved!" The King bellows, sweeping his arms in excitement.

The Knights roar their excitement, clapping each other on the back, and giving eager handshakes. The King smiles coldly, but then again all his expressions were cold. 

The Prince stands. "We had the help of three brave assassins-in-training. They have helped me, and I have them to thank. George, Sapnap, and Aeline. Please come forward." Dream commands. 

George lingers behind in the crowd as Sapnap and Aeline soak up the praise. Did he even want to go? No. He didn't. He had a feeling they were to be made assassins. He didn't want to work for Dream. No way.

Dream notices George isn't up there. George can see his eyes do a quick sweep of the room, not meeting him. Dream looks almost... disappointed.

"You two have served me with honor, therefore you shall become symbols of honor. I pronounce you Noble Assassins of Enfernia." Dream taps them on both their shoulders with a ceremonial sword. 

The Knights cheer for them, Sapnap and Aeline waving to the crowd with large smiles on their faces. George is happy for them, but his mood prevents him from showing his approval. He gets up, walking from the court. He can't handle it anymore.

"George!" The King calls. 

George freezes as the eyes of all the Knights rest heavily on him. He winces, turning around.

"My Lord?" George bows, careful to pretend he respected the King in front of all the Knights. 

"I take it you do not want to be an assassin?"

"No sire. I once wished it more than anything in the world. Recent... things... have changed that," George says, looking down. He rises, eyes meeting Dreams. His mouth is set in a hard line, eyes narrowed. Well, there was no questioning Dream anymore; he was angry.

Good, George thought. See if I care.

"Very well. The position will remain yours if you should want it. I will give you the next best honor until then. You will be Dream's manservant," the King says, proudly. 

The Knights around George gasp, applauding. 

What this some kind of sick joke? What kind of so-called honor was this?

Dream swiftly turns to the King, protesting. George briskly walks toward the front of the court, bowing to the King again for good measure.

"With all due respect your Majesty, I do think someone else would be better suited for the role," Geroge says, trying not to wince at Dream's close presence. 

"Nonsense. You are too modest. His manservant you will be. I will have our maids immediately prepare the room next to his for you. You shall stay in the castle from now on," the King says, snapping his fingers at a maid who scurries off. "And George? This is an honor."

George sighs, knowing he won't get out of this. He bows stiffly to the King, mumbling his thanks. He looks at the Prince, only met with a stare that could have turned him to ice. Dream shakes his head, annoyed. 

George starts the walk out of the court, led by the maid who made up his room remarkably fast. She leads him to the double doors, opening them. The room is relatively small, a bed in one corner and a table across from it. Best of all, there is a bathroom with a working shower!

George walks in, marveling at the room that he could call his. He runs his head across the bed, gasping at the sheets he would have. He had a bed... he walks into the bathroom, turning the water off and on. It was so weird to him to have working water.

He hears a sharp knock at his doors- his!-, and he practically skips to the door, smile wide on his face. It immediately drops when he is met with Dream. 

"Look, I'm no happier with this than you are. You are now my servant, and I will treat you as such. Wash my armor and have it ready by tomorrow," Dream throws his heavy armor and assassin's uniform at George, who catches it, stumbling backward with the weight. 

Dream leaves the room with a sweep of his cape, clicking the door shut. George curses, dropping all the things on his table. It would take him all night to scrub the armor. Suddenly exhausted, he blinks hard to keep from falling asleep as he plops down at the table after discovering a basket in the bathroom filled with all the cleaning things he would need. 

He scrubs until the light disappears from his little window that looks to the courtyard. As his eyelids get increasingly heavier, George splashes water on his face to keep awake. He finishes with his final part, the chest plate, collapsing into bed as the sun started to rise. 

His door clicks open, boots clicking on the stone floors. George is too exhausted to even check who it was. He moans as someone calls his name, pulling his knees to his chest. The person sighs, grabbing the armor off the table. The door clicks shut as George realizes who had entered. He swears, fully awake, as he realized he had just dismissed the Prince.

He thanks his lucky stars that he didn't get yelled at. 

As George pushes himself up, rubbing his eyes, he can't help but wonder why Dream didn't say anything. 

~

George walks the halls of the palace, not sure what to do. He passes by a few maids, nodding to them before he realizes that there was probably something to do for Dream. He didn't want to stay awake all night, so he decides to head for the Prince's chambers to check for a to-do list. 

He knocks once, opening the door to be greeted by Dream, shuffling through paperwork at his very large table. Dream's room was obviously much nicer than George's, having all the fancy curtains and bedspreads of a Prince. Everything in there looked expensive. There were swords of all kinds lining one of the walls, and armor stands against another.

"Ahh, George. I take it you got some rest?" Dream asks, writing something with his quill. There was no hint of malice in his voice, much to George's surprise. 

"Uh- yes my lord, I did. Thank you," Dream looks up, puzzled.

"My title..."

"Yeah well don't get used to it, clot pole..." George smiles secretively, tending to the dying embers of the fire. "Shall I be getting you anything?"

"My lunch, if you will. It should be in the palace kitchens," Dream says. 

Dream gives the directions to the kitchen, George asking the cook upon arrival for Dream's lunch. The cook brings out a rolling cart. Yes, a cart for crying out loud. There was roasted chicken, potatoes, carrots, and some kind of dessert. The aroma coming from the cart made George's mouth water. He rolled it back to Dream's room, placing it on the table for him.

"Will that be all sire?" George asks. "Maybe I could muck out the horses?"

Dream looks up, nodding. "Yes, that would be great."

George bows, leaving him to his work. He does his chores, doing a few extra in hopes of pleasing the Prince. It is around dinnertime when George returns to the Prince's chambers, bringing Dream's dinner. 

He enters, seeing Dream with his head propped up by his hand. He was in the same place George had last left him, and he hadn't touched his lunch. George frowns, exchanging the cold food with the fresh, steaming plate. 

"You really should eat," George comments. "I know you must be hungry."

"There isn't time. Father is having me proof read these treaties. Turns out, it takes a lot of work to rule over another nation," Dream laughs humorlessly. He tries to stifle a yawn, flickering the candle across from him. 

George picks up the plate, putting it on the document that Dream was reading. Dream looks at it, then looks at George. Dream is met with the stern expression of George, putting the fork into Dream's hand.

"Eat. I won't have you dying my first day on the job," George says sarcastically. 

"Ok, ok, fine. You win!" Dream says, eating his dinner. George stares at it, stomach rumbling since he hadn't eaten all day. Dream looks up, noticing George's mouth-watering. 

"Have you eaten?" Dream asks. 

George says nothing, silence more than enough for an answer. 

Dream rolls his eyes, throwing his roll to George. "Hypocrite," he mutters under his breath, a smile flitting across his face for the first time in a while. 

George breathes a laugh, gingerly taking a bite out of the buttered bread. It was so good. He eats the whole thing in two bites, then pours some water for Dream.

"Look... I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I- I didn't mean it. I was angry at something, and I just took it out on you. You didn't deserve it. I would be honored to be your servant. You didn't ask for much, and I flipped out on you. I'm- I'm sorry," George says, eyes flitting to meet Dream's. 

Dream just smiles tiredly. "It's ok. You don't need to apologize. There was some... truth to what you said. Sometimes, with people treating me like I'm the most important person in the world, I forget my place. Granted, yes I am a Prince, but I still owe you some respect. You're my friend. I'm glad to have you here with me. I only hope this job doesn't grow too tiresome," Dream says genuinely. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, and I do acknowledge that. I'm just so used to... respect I guess? Awe? It sounds stupid to other people, but I have been treated special all my life. For once I just wanted to be treated... normally. That's why I entered AO anonymously. I knew I couldn't be an Assassin, but I wanted to win a fair fight. We were going to spare the last man standing with me, of course. I just... I wanted the chance to see what it was like to not be coddled. Maybe that's stupid," Dream trails off, eating another bite of his vegetables. 

George chuckles, shaking his head. "Try as you might, you're different from any Noble I've ever met. One day, you'll be a great King. I know that," George says, smiling at Dream. 

Dream looks up, surprised, and shakes his head. "We shall see.... yes we shall."

George stands by the door, silent for the rest of the time. Dream multitasks between eating dinner and reading over the report. When he finishes, George sets the cart full of dirty dishes outside to be taken by a maid. He begins to blow out the candles, but Dream protests. 

"I have more work to do. You may go. Get some sleep. I need you to be well-rested for tomorrow. I have some things to do, and I need you to come with me," Dream says, struggling to hold back another yawn.

"No Dream. You need to sleep. Come now," George grabs Dream's arm gently, leading him to the closet and picking out his sleepwear. "Get changed. I'm going to blow out the rest of the candles."

Dream smiles, pulling his shirt over his head. He changes, getting into bed, and George keeps the last candle by his bed lit. He comes over, pulling the covers up and over Dream. 

"I hope you have a wonderful sleep my lord. You know where I am should you require me," George says, bowing. 

"You as well, George," Dream says, rolling over. 

George blows out the last candle and exits the chambers, closing the doors with a soft click. He goes to his room, flopping himself down on the bed. What a day. 

He falls asleep in seconds, smiling at the way this strange day had gone so right in the end.


End file.
